"It is!" returned Bess with a sepulchral air, as though p.r.o.nouncing doom. Then, mocking Dorothy"s serious face with a little tumult of laughter, she went on: "There; it"s all decided now the way you wished.
You are to refuse Count Storri and marry Mr. Storms without bestowing either care or thought on what Mamma Harley or Papa Harley or Uncle Pat may say or do about it."
"Really, Bess, how much better you have made me feel. After all, there"s n.o.body like a wise, dear, true friend!"
"The value of such a friend is beyond conjecture," returned the mocking Bess, rea.s.suming her tones of the oracle.
The memory of Richard"s kisses on her fingers never left Dorothy all that day and all that night. Those fortunate little fingers seemed translated into something rosily better and apart from herself. And brow and ears and eyes and cheeks and lips went envying those lucky fingers; and in the end the lips crept upon them and kissed them for having been kissed; perhaps with vague thoughts of robbing them of some portion of the blissful wealth wherewith they had been invested. Richard, being male, for his part thought the less about it, and went simply meditating future sweet aggressions. And that shows the difference between a man and a maid.
Richard, feeding his love with thoughts of Dorothy and his vanity with ink, and thereby gaining two mighty reasons for living, began to keep earlier hours. He turned out at nine o"clock instead of eleven and twelve, hours which had formerly matched his languid fancy. These energetic doings bred alarm in both Matzai and Mr. Pickwick, evoking snappish protests from the latter, who, being of a nocturnal turn, held that the day was meant for sleep. On the morning after he had been honored with the privilege of the veranda door, Richard was borne upon by something akin to gloom. This feeling went with him from bed to bath, and from bath to breakfast, and finally walked with him all the way to the Harley house. He was willing to sacrifice the _Daily Tory_ and yoke himself personally to the mills of Senator Hanway"s designs; but he must see Dorothy. That brightness was the bribe, unspoken and unknown to all save himself, that had brought him into Washington and these sundry and divers plots and counterplots of state. And now to be cheated through the polite blunderings of a gentleman who was so engaged in considering himself that he had neither time nor eyes for any other! Richard swore roundly in mental fashion at his contrary fate. And yet he saw no way to better the situation; and perforce, for this morning at least, he was driven to push the bell of the veranda door. He might have gone about the ceremony with more cheer had he known how he was to gain an ally in his troubles; one, moreover, whose aid was sure to prove effective.
As Senator Hanway"s black messenger ushered Richard into that statesman"s study, the radiant Dorothy, perched at the end of Senator Hanway"s table, was the picture that greeted his eyes. Our radiant one sought to stifle her effulgence beneath a look severe and practical.
This expression of practical severity was a failure, and served to render her more dazzling.
"I have made up my mind," quoth Dorothy, the moment Richard was inside the door, and speaking in the loud, dead-level monotone which she conceived to be the voice for business conversations as against the giggling, gurgling ups and downs of conversations purely social, "I have made up my mind to come in every morning and help Uncle Pat. I"m tired of being a useless enc.u.mbrance."
Delivering which, Dorothy wore the resolved manner of a new Joan of Arc who had come seeking fields of politics rather than those of war.
"And I have been of use to you, haven"t I, Uncle Pat?" demanded Dorothy.
"Of measureless use, dear," said Senator Hanway. Then, turning to his secretary, who had taken a score of letters shorthand and was about to seek his own quarters and run them off upon the typewriter: "Have those copied by three o"clock and bring them here for signature."
Senator Hanway had no more than given Richard good-morning when Senator Loot was announced.
"He won"t stay long," said Senator Hanway; "but while he"s here, dear, won"t you take Mr. Storms into the library?" This request was preferred to Dorothy.
"Yes," began Dorothy, when she and Richard found themselves in the library, and nothing to interrupt them but the distant slumbrous rumble of Senator Loot. "Yes, I"m going to help Uncle Pat. And I"m going to learn how to be a newspaper woman, too. I think every girl should be capable of earning her own living. Not that I expect to be obliged to do so; but it is best to be prepared." Dorothy"s face was funereal, as though disasters, clawed and fanged, were roaming the thickets of the future to spring upon her. "So I shall learn the newspaper trade; go in and be a writer as you are--only not so brilliant--and then, if it were necessary, I could earn my own way."
Now Richard knew these industrious resolutions to be the veriest webs of subterfuge. Their duplicity was apparent, and they were spun for him.
Dorothy owned no thought of missing his morning calls, and had met Senator Hanway"s courtesies of the veranda door with a move in flank.
The news c.o.c.ked up the spirits of Richard excessively, and gave to his Farnese shoulders an insolent swing as he strutted up and down the library. He had expected Dorothy to reproach him for the soft violence done her fingers; but she made no mention of it. Whereupon--in such manner do unchecked iniquities multiply upon themselves--Richard turned towards her with a purpose of again outraging those little fingers with the burden of a fresh caress. The little fingers, grown wary, however, were in discreet retirement behind Dorothy, as, with her back to the window, she stood facing him. Defeated in his campaign against the fingers before it had begun, Richard was driven to discuss Dorothy"s work-a-day resolves.
"Newspaper work? Do society, I suppose?"
Richard had gotten hold of the idioms of the craft, and spoke of "doing society" as though reared among the types.
"No, not society," and Dorothy shook her head. "I"d pick "em to pieces, the minxes; and the papers don"t want that. No, I"m going to learn about politics with Uncle Pat. I shall write politics. You must teach me."
Richard said he would.
"Only you should know," said he, "that I need a deal of teaching myself."
"But you can write!" cried Dorothy, her hands emerging from their retreat to clasp each other in a glow of admiration. "I"ve read your letters. They remind me of Carlyle"s "French Revolution.""
This staggered Richard; was his idol laughing at him? A glance into her eyes showed only a darkened enthusiasm; whereat Richard puffed and swelled. Perhaps his _Daily Tory_ letters did have the rhetorical tread of the Scotchman"s masterpiece. In any event it was pleasant to have Dorothy think so. Before he could frame his modesty to fit reply, the c.u.mbrous retreat of Senator Loot was overheard.
"Now we must go back," said Dorothy.
"May I have a rose?" asked Richard, pointing to his blushing consignment of that day, where they luxuriated in a giant vase.
"Don"t touch my hands!" cried Dorothy fiercely, whipping them behind her.
Richard gave his humble parole that he would not touch her hands. Being rea.s.sured, Dorothy pinned a bud in his lapel. The little fingers were so fondly confident of safety that they made no haste in these labors of the bud. Their confidence went unabused; Richard adhered to his parole and never touched them.
"I"m glad you can keep your promise!" said Dorothy, pouting from pure delight.
Later, the pair made love to one another with their eyes across the dignified desk of Senator Hanway, while that statesman told Richard matters to the detriment of Mr. Hawke"s canva.s.s for a Speakership and Governor Obstinate"s claims upon a Presidency, of which, through the medium of the _Daily Tory_, he believed the public should be informed.
"My dear Dorothy," observed the sibyl of the golden locks, when the other related how faithfully Richard had kept his compact concerning her fingers, "you ought never to make a man promise the thing you do not want. They are such dullards; besides, they have a pa.s.sion for keeping their word."
The President and General Attorney and thirty-two underling attorneys of the Anaconda Airline, in accord with Mr. Gwynn"s request, descended upon Washington. The thirty-two underling attorneys, coming to town by twos and threes, were amazed when they found a gathering of the Anaconda Airline clans. They collected in groups and clots at the Shorcham, the Arlington, and Willard"s to discuss their amazement.
The President and General Attorney, if they were smitten of wonder, concealed it, and within the hour after their arrival rang the doorbell of Mr. Gwynn. They were ushered into a room the tamed splendors of which told the thorough taste that had conceived it. Then their cards went up to Mr. Gwynn.
Word came back that Mr. Gwynn was deeply engaged. Would the President and the General Attorney of the Anaconda Airline call again in an hour?
The President and General Attorney had for long harbored a theory that Mr. Gwynn was the greatest man on earth. Now they knew it; the fact was displayed beyond dispute by his failure to instantly see them. The President and General Attorney withdrew, silent in their awe, and Mr.
Gwynn dispatched Matzai to find Richard.
On the hour"s even stroke, the President and General Attorney were again at Mr. Gwynn"s. That personage was still unable to meet them; however, he sent Richard with written excuses for his absence and the suggestion that Richard, speaking in his place, would put them in possession of his wishes.
"Mr. Gwynn desired to say," observed Richard, "that Anaconda Airline interests deeply depend upon Mr. Frost for Speaker."
"What we"ve said from the beginning!" remarked the President to the General Attorney.
"Precisely what we"ve said!" observed the General Attorney.
They had said nothing on that point; but they were too well drilled in their own interests to fail of complete coincidence with a gentleman who could call a special shareholders" meeting, elect a new directory, and revise the entire official family of the Anaconda Airline within any given thirty days.
"Mr. Gwynn asks you, then," said Richard, "since you and he agree on the propriety of Mr. Frost for Speaker, to consult with Senator Hanway."
And now the Anaconda Airline was in the war for the House gavel. Under the supervision of Senator Hanway, it brought its whole smothering weight to bear upon the Hawke twenty of those twenty-three whose districts it dominated. The Hawke twenty wriggled and writhed, but in the end gave way--all save a rock-ribbed quartette. They must stay by the standards of Mr. Hawke.
"Our const.i.tuents will destroy us if we don"t," said they.
"The Anaconda will destroy you if you do," was the blunt retort of the General Attorney.
The four stood firm, and were blacklisted for slaughter at the polls a year away, at which time they were faithfully knocked on the head.
Sixteen of the twenty went over to Mr. Frost; the President of the Anaconda Airline came out in an interview in the _Daily Tory_ and said that the shift of the excellent sixteen was a popular victory.
It was two days before the caucus. The line-up of forces, Frost against Hawke, Hanway against Obstinate, under able captains went vigorously forward. It pleased Senator Hanway to hear that the Frost fortunes were being unexpectedly served by the volcanic Mr. Hawke himself. That gentleman had fallen into a state of indignant eruption; his best friends could not approach him because of the smoke and flame and lava which his rage cast up.
"The most scoundrel thing I ever saw in Washington is that I am made to fight for the Speakership!" cried the eruptive Mr. Hawke; and this fashion of outburst does not help any man"s cause.
To steal a simile from a dead gentleman who stole from others in his day, Mr. Hawke went into the final battle of the caucus much after the manner wherewith a horse approaches a drum, that is, with a deal of prance and but little progress, and, for the most part, wrong end foremost. Even then the count of Senator Hanway--a cold-blooded computation--gave that gavel to the violent Mr. Hawke. So much for being a House leader, a tariff monger, and a friend of Governor Obstinate.
On the afternoon before the caucus, Senator Hanway took a last look at the array. Besides Mr. Hawke and Mr. Frost, there were two other candidates, Mr. Patch and Mr. Swinger. These latter had been sent into the lists by the diplomacy of Senator Hanway to hold the delegations from their States, a majority whereof, if released, would fly to Mr.
Hawke. With all four names before the caucus, Mr. Frost would lead Mr.
Hawke by two, without having a majority. Eliminate Mr. Patch and Mr.
Swinger, however, and Mr. Hawke would be chosen by a majority of seven.
And, while the battle might be made to stagger on through forty ballots, in the end Mr. Patch and Mr. Swinger must perforce withdraw. They could give no excuse for holding on forever in a fight shown to be hopeless.