“Am I talkin' to Mr. Crewe?”
“Yes.”
“Mr. Humphrey Crewe?”
“Yes—yes, of course you are. Who are you?”
“I'm the president of the Paradise Benevolent and Military Association, Mr. Crewe. Boys that work in the mills, you know,” continued the voice, caressingly. “Sure you've heard of us. We're five hundred strong, and all of us good Republicans as the president. We're to have our annual fall outing the first of October in Finney Grove, and we'd like to have you come down.”
“The first of October?” said Mr. Crewe. “I'll consult my engagement book.”
“We'd like to have a good picture of you in our programme, Mr. Crewe. We hope you'll oblige us. You're such an important figure in State politics now you'd ought to have a full page.”
There was a short silence.
“What does it cost?” Mr. Crewe demanded.
“Sure,” said the caressing voice of the president, “whatever you like.”