“A little,” answered the child. “I'm kind of tired, and my head hurts.”
He ran his thick hand through her red curls, and looked at her anxiously for a moment. Then he followed Bridge into the parlor.
“What can I do for you, Bridge?” he asked gruffly.
Bridge hesitated a moment; then he said, “Jim Weeks was in town this morning.”
Blaney looked up sharply, and asked, “Did you see him?”
“Yes,” answered the other. “That is, he came down to see me. You know the M. & T. election is coming pretty soon now, and he got the idea that our stock was going to be voted against him. He wanted me to fix it up so things would go his way in the Council, and I told him that I'd do what I could. I came around to you to see if your crowd were going to do anything about it.”
The coolness of the inquiry almost stupefied Blaney, but he managed to speak.
“I'd like to know,” he said, “what business that is of yours, anyway.”
“It's my business, right enough,” said Bridge, easily. “I could ask the same question in Council meeting, but I thought it was best to talk it over with you quietly. There isn't any good in trying to fight Jim Weeks, and I should think you'd know it. If ever a man had a cinch—”
“What are you up to, anyhow?” demanded Blaney, now thoroughly exasperated. “Did you come around here to try to bulldoze me? Well, I'll just tell you you may as well save your breath. Do you understand that? Weeks thinks he can come his old bluff down here, but he's going to get fooled just once. We've got the backing that'll beat him. That's all I've got to say to you.”