"But I still--believe in the world."
"You are young yet, my friend," she lightly replied. "And besides, that
good Miss Smith has gone and grafted a New England conscience on a
tropical heart, and--dear me!--but it's a gorgeous misfit.
Good-bye--come again." She bowed him graciously out, and paused to take
the mail from the box. There was, among many others, a letter from
Senator Smith.
_Twenty-five_
THE CAMPAIGN
Mr. Easterly sat in Mrs. Vanderpool's apartments in the New Willard,
Washington, drinking tea. His hostess was saying rather carelessly:
"Do you know, Mr. Vanderpool has developed a quite unaccountable liking
for the idea of being Ambassador to France?"
"Dear me!" mildly exclaimed Mr. Easterly, helping himself liberally to
cakes. "I do hope the thing can be managed, but--"
"What are the difficulties?" Mrs. Vanderpool interrupted.
"Well, first and foremost, the difficulty of electing our man."
"I thought that a foregone conclusion."
"It was. But do you know that we're encountering opposition from the
most unexpected source?"
The lady was receptive, and the speaker concluded:
"The Negroes."
"The Negroes!"
"Yes. There are five hundred thousand or more black voters in pivotal
Northern States, you know, and they're in revolt. In a close election
the Negroes of New York, Ohio, Indiana, and Illinois choose the
President.
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