It would be no more true to say of Mr. Bigler that he was or could be embarrassed, than to say that a brass counterfeit dollar-piece would change color when refused; the question annoyed him a little, in Mr. Bolton’s presence.
“Why, yes, Miss, of course, in a great enterprise for the benefit of the community there will little things occur, which, which—and, of course, the poor ought to be looked to; I tell my wife, that the poor must be looked to; if you can tell who are poor—there’s so many impostors. And then, there’s so many poor in the legislature to be looked after,” said the contractor with a sort of a chuckle, “isn’t that so, Mr. Bolton?”
Eli Bolton replied that he never had much to do with the legislature.
“Yes,” continued this public benefactor, “an uncommon poor lot this year, uncommon. Consequently an expensive lot. The fact is, Mr. Bolton, that the price is raised so high on United States Senator now, that it affects the whole market; you can’t get any public improvement through on reasonable terms. Simony is what I call it, Simony,” repeated Mr. Bigler, as if he had said a good thing.
Mr. Bigler went on and gave some very interesting details of the intimate connection between railroads and politics, and thoroughly entertained himself all dinner time, and as much disgusted Ruth, who asked no more questions, and her father who replied in monosyllables:
“I wish,” said Ruth to her father, after the guest had gone, “that you wouldn’t bring home any more such horrid men. Do all men who wear big diamond breast-pins, flourish their knives at table, and use bad grammar, and cheat?”
“O, child, thee mustn’t be too observing. Mr. Bigler is one of the most important men in the state; nobody has more influence at Harrisburg. I don’t like him any more than thee does, but I’d better lend him a little money than to have his ill will.”