“I think we've both been mutually helpful, Jethro,” he said, “mutually helpful.”
“Well,” said Jethro, reflectively, “I don't know as I could have put it as well as that—there's somethin' in being an orator.”
There was another silence, a much longer one. The Honorable Heth threw his butt away, and lighted another cigar. Suddenly, as if by magic, his aplomb returned, and in a flash of understanding he perceived the situation. He saw himself once more as the successful congressman, the trusted friend of the railroad interests, and he saw Jethro as a discredited boss. He did not stop to reflect that Jethro did not act like a discredited boss, as a keener man might have done. But if the Honorable Heth had been a keener man, he would not have been at that time a congressman. Mr. Sutton accused himself of having been stupid in not grasping at once that the tables were turned, and that now he was the one to dispense the gifts.
“K-kind of fortunate you stopped to speak to me, Heth. N-now I come to think of it, I hev a little favor to ask of you.”
“Ah!” exclaimed Mr. Sutton, blowing out the smoke; “of course anything I can do, Jethro—anything in reason.”
“W-wouldn't ask a high-minded man to do anything he hadn't ought to,” said Jethro; “the fact is, I'd like to git Eph Prescott appointed at the Brampton post-office. You can fix that, Heth—can't you—you can fix that?”
Mr. Sutton stuck his thumb into his vest pocket and cleared his throat.
“I can't tell you how sorry I am not to oblige you, Jethro, but I've arranged to give that post-office to Dave Wheelock.”
“A-arranged it, hev You—a-arranged it?”
“Why, yes,” said Mr. Sutton, scarcely believing his own ears. Could it be possible that he was using this patronizingly kind tone to Jethro Bass?