Now that he was gone, I could look back and see that Culpepper had always been a good fellow. And with a sort of pitying contempt I acknowledged that I had set myself up as a target for ridicule. But I did not merit the supercilious airs with which Miss Hatch had treated me, and toward her I had not entered into a forgiving mood, though now I know that had she entered the room while I was indulging these reflections, I should graciously have agreed that she, too, had always been one of the "best of fellows."
The Senator came in just before supper-time, bringing a newspaper, which he said was still damp with the dew of recent events. He carried his soft hat in his hand, nor did he put it down when, unfolding the paper, he stood to catch the light at the window. He said that he supposed I must be anxious to hear from the great world of politics, and he proceeded to read an editorial forecast of the election for congressman from the state-at-large, halting to comment upon the views set forth and making slow gestures with his hat. It was a local journal, but it had reproduced the political opinions of other publications, and these the Senator read with sharp avidity. I asked him if he thought he could find any theatrical news, but he cut me off with his hat, and gave me a paragraph on beet sugar, which he deplored as an outrage, intended to lessen the value of the plantations down the river. The light was fading, and I was not sorry. He stood closer to the window, that he might better harvest the last glimmer of the fading day, and in my cold dread of his lighting a lamp, I did not hear what he read, simply catching now and then such political frayed ends as per capita and ad valorem.
"Ah," said he, "here is a liberal extract from Tomlinson's great speech. But it's getting most too dark. Shall I light a lamp?"
I replied that I was afraid that he might tire himself pursuing his kind desire to entertain me.
"Oh, not at all, not at all, I assure you," he quickly spoke up. "But I guess you've had as much as you ought to digest at present. Feed, but don't gorge, is my motto. A hungry calf can run faster than a foundered horse. I tell you," he added, putting the paper under his arm and coming toward me, "there's going to be a warm election here this fall. Of course I'm a candidate for reëlection—the Senate couldn't get along without me—and I don't know that I've got but one very bitter enemy, and he is none other than the editor of this sheet, Sir," he said, striking the newspaper with his hat. "For a long time he was my friend and supporter, but he ran against me two years ago, and I beat him so badly that since then he has been my enemy. He is a cur, and as sure as he lives I'll get even with him. And as the season approaches I expect every day to find in his paper a scurrilous article about me; all he wants is a pretext. Ah, here is Washington, with your supper."
Cutting with his hat a black scallop in the twilight, the Senator withdrew. The giant placed the tray of dishes upon a chair and lighted a hanging lamp. And then he stood in the middle of the floor, his arms folded, looking at me.
"Won't you please sit down?" I pleaded.
"I am to be commanded, Sir," he replied, seating himself, and under his ponderous bulk the chair creaked.
"Come now," said I, "throw away your stilts and walk on the ground. I have quite enough of that on the stage."
He looked at me, slowly shutting and opening his eyes as if determined that even his wink should be deliberate. "And don't you think, Sir, that it would be well if you could say that you have had quite enough of the stage itself?"