Now, the city of Boston's contract with the Bay State Company for gas at a dollar and twenty-five cents, which had run a long term of years, was just expiring. One bright June morning the mayor's secretary telephoned the secretary of the Mogul from Delaware that His Honor of Boston, desired converse with the Gas King. If those who overheard the dialogue can be credited, the parley was of this character:
"This is the mayor of Boston, the Hon. Nathan Matthews."
"This is J. Edward O'Sullivan Addicks, Gas King and United States Senator-to-be. What would you with me?"
"I would hold converse with you in regard to a contract of much moment which will expire in a few days."
"Well and good. My office is in West Street. Give your card to my first, second, or third secretary and I will not keep you waiting long."
"The office of the mayor of Boston is at the City Hall and my first or under-secretary will make things agreeable while you wait. When will you call?"
"I would have you understand, Mr. Mayor, that any one to talk gas with J. Edward O'Sullivan Addicks, Gas King and United State Senator-to-be, comes to his office."
"Good-day to you, Mr. Gas King and United States Senator-to-be."
"Good-day to you, Mr. Mayor."
I do not, of course, guarantee that the conversation took exactly the form here given it, but no injustice has been done its substance, nor would it be possible to estimate in miles the breach it created. From that telephonic encounter date the earnest efforts of Matthews and Addicks to do up each other, in which both were successful to a degree that filled their hearts with Indian pleasure.