They found Carveth waiting for them in the office.
“I been lookin' over the paper,” he told Ames, as they seated themselves at the breakfast table. He turned to his secretary. “I can't see that we occupy so darn much space, Willie. The world seems unaware of the fact that Jeremiah Carveth and W. C. B. McPherson are willing to act as a kind providence in shaping the destiny of a freeborn people. I'm getting a sickenin' consciousness that there's tall timber growing for me.” He laughed in McPherson's face, which had gone from white to red. “Cheer up, Willie, cheer up. It's good to be alive, and the rest is dividends. You mayn't land me in office, but what's the odds? Crisp and bright, Willie, crisp and bright!” he urged with kindly concern.
But the thought of defeat was a bitter thing to McPherson, and presently he excused himself and quitted the table.
“I want a meetin'-house talk with you, Ames,” said Carveth, the moment the secretary was out of hearing. “I was all for private life, the privater the better, until Willie smoked me out. It's this way, I got a daughter—” Mr. Carveth paused; in spite of his habitual frankness he was struggling with a sudden sense of diffidence. “We got only the one child, and naturally her mother and I center everything on her; and we've been fortunate, for we've been able to give her a good many advantages. Now Willie's interested in Nellie; and Nellie's interested in Willie. It's a match her ma and I desire; but Willie's chuck-full of pride. He's got nothing but a salary of fifteen dollars a week, and he says he can't regard marriage as a commercial asset; and there you are.” Mr. Carveth gave Ames an expressive smile. “I don't say but what Willie's right. He says if he can get me elected governor he'll feel that he ain't just an experiment. I guess you gather, from what I say, that I'm in politics to oblige Willie; and that's the situation.”
The state convention met on the tenth of the month, and when the morning of the tenth dawned Ames was conscious of a feeling of disquietude. He rather took it out on Mr. Carveth's secretary.
“You'll see what a gilt-edged snap does for a man, Mr. McPherson,” he observed. “Your little delegation and all the other little delegations will be given their little say, then Smith will quietly proceed to nominate his bunch; and it will dawn on a few enlightened minds that the business could have been transacted by just getting him on the phone in the first place.” And having eased himself of this depressing prophecy, Ames began a perusal of the News.
Some two hours later the secretary hurried into the hotel office.
“In strict confidence, Mr. Ames,” he said, and thrust a telegram into Ames' hand. It proved to be from James Cartwright Smith, and requested an immediate interview with Mr. Carveth.
“He'll take the first train to town?” asked Ames.
“I have just sent Mr. Carveth's answer. He will see Mr. Smith—here,” said McPherson.