The Honorable Peter Stirling and What People Thought of Him

by Paul Leicester Ford

Peter took his cigar out of his mouth. “Who are bound?” he asked, quietly.

“Why, the organization is—the party,” said Number Two, with a “deny-it-if-you-dare” in his voice.

“I don’t see how we can back out now, Stirling,” said Number One.

“Who wants to?” said another. “The Labor party promises to support us on our local nominations, and Maguire is not merely a Democrat, but he gives us every pledge.”

“There’s no good of talking of anything else anyhow,” said Number One, “for there will be a clean majority for Maguire in the convention.”

“And no other candidate can poll fifty votes on the first ballot,” said Number Two.

Then they all looked at Peter, and became silent. Peter puffed his cigar thoughtfully.

“What do you say?” said Number One.

Peter merely shook his head.

“But I tell you it’s done,” cried one of the men, a little excitedly. “It’s too late to backslide! We want to please you, Stirling, but we can’t this time. We must do what’s right for the party.”