“It’s a silly bill, Jem. But where’s the harm? Let ’em blow off steam.”
“Then you won’t veto it?”
“I certainly shall not. Does The Guardian propose to scarify me?”
“My Lord, Martin! A matter as serious as this—I don’t see how you can take it so lightly.”
“Philosophy, my boy. With our Corporation Bill coming on soon I’m certainly not going to compromise its chances by flying in the face of the whole German-American vote.”
“But on a question of national honor—”
“National flapdoodle! Our national honor is safe enough as long as we keep our heads. Will you see Rappelje to-morrow about the Corporation Control Bill?”
“Yes. To-morrow afternoon.”
The lean and dry authority on economics, an ardent apostle of Embree’s policies and his chief adviser on all corporation matters, spent an hour in the editorial den of The Guardian. All points of the bill were carefully discussed. Jeremy committed his unqualified editorial support to it.
“Will you forward it to Mr. Kimball, of The Bellair Journal?” asked the professor.