“All right, Baker, what is it?” the candidate asked, absent-mindedly.
“Don't you remember tellin' me,” Pole began, “that you never had in all yore life met a man that made better an' truer predictions about things to come than I did?”
“Yes, I think so, Baker—yes, I remember now,” answered Wiggin. “You do seem to have a head that way. Some men have more than others, a sort of foresight or intuition.”
Pole chuckled. “You remember I said Teddy Rusefelt would whip the socks off of Parker. I'm a Democrat an' always will be, but I kin see things that are goin' to be agin me as plain as them I'm prayin' for. Well, you remember I was called a traitor jest beca'se I told what was comin', but I hit the nail on the head, didn't I?”
“Yes, you did,” admitted the downcast candidate.
“An' I was right about the majority Towns would git for the State senate, Mayhew for solicitor, an' Tim Bloodgood for the last legislature.”
“Yes, you were, I remember that,” said Wiggin.
“I hit it on the Governor's race to a gnat's heel, too, didn't I?” Pole pursued, his keen eyes fixed on those of the man before him.
“Yes, you did,” admitted Wiggin; “you really seem to have remarkable foresight.”
“Well, then,” said Baker, “I've got a prediction to make about your race agin Carson Dwight.”