CHAPTER IV
The hearing before the governor at Springfield came off as Wilbur had predicted. The papers reported that Charles Bishop Wren, together with Israel Tracey and Wrightington, had gone on to the capital to plead for the bill. Also Thornton Jennings, chairman of a subcommittee of the Civic Association, appeared before his excellency, as the sole representative of the opposition. Public opinion was exhausted, or submissive: the matter seemed already arranged.
“You see,” Wilbur explained to his wife, “no one of any account has taken the pains to appear before the governor against the bill.”
“Perhaps they prefer to save their fares,” she retorted. He made no reply, and she was afraid to trust herself further. Yet she listened eagerly to Jennings, who happened in one afternoon, while he described his experiences at Springfield.
“The ‘hearing’ was a regular love-feast between old Wrightington and his excellency, the governor, who was moderately full. They sat on me every time I opened my mouth.” He laughed good-humouredly, stretching out his long figure. “At last the governor suggested that I should hand in a brief of my case. He had had enough of ‘chin.’ It was a delicious farce.”
“He signed, then?” Mrs. Wilbur asked nervously.
“Not yet. But of course it is all settled. I knew that when I went on.”
She looked at him admiringly. He continued idly. “I wanted to be in at the death. It was worth it too, as a comedy.” He laughed again contagiously. “I met old Parsons of our firm on the train. He gave me some fatherly advice about sticking to business, and keeping out of ‘politics.’ He cited a model—Jack Hendricks—you know him? The slim, white, perfectly clean young man who is trying to marry Remsen’s youngest. Honest-policy Jack we call him at the office. He is a nice young man.”
His mind ran on nervously, and when he spoke again he seemed to be looking into the future. “But the good people of Chicago are running things on a wrong basis, and some day they will wake up with forty-thousand Polacks and other impetuous citizens tearing down their houses.”
“I shouldn’t be altogether sorry!” Mrs. Wilbur flamed out.