"I believe you may make me a manhattan cocktail, Chris."
Steisfloss paused, but only for an instant, and then he said promptly:
"I'm sorry, Mr. Garwood, but I'm out o' manhattan."
Garwood glanced at him and smiled faintly. Steisfloss detected the smile, and Garwood instantly feared he had lost, not only a vote, but the influence of a saloon. Rankin sprang to the rescue of both.
"No," said Garwood. "I haven't been very well lately--I reckon you can give me some bourbon."
"That Washington living's too high fer you, eh?" said Rankin genially. But he saw that Garwood again was displeased and so hastened to mollify him, by adding:
"Oh well, you'll be all right. It's this hot weather. You'll be all right when you're rested out. You ought to go away somewhere and take a vacation."
"Yes," said Garwood, quickly assenting to the proposition, "Senator Ames wanted me to go with him to Rye Beach later on--reckon I'll have to."
They drank and left. They found Garwood's old offices deserted, for Enright had dutifully gone over to the court house in order to be seen among the other lawyers who really had business there, little enough though it was. And when they had tossed up the windows to let some air into the musty rooms, and Rankin had leaned dangerously out on the dusty window-ledge to lower the ragged awnings, they seated themselves as of old, in the worn chairs.
"Well now," Garwood said, in tones that were almost a command, "tell me about it. How in hell did it ever happen?"
Rankin shifted uneasily. He grew a shade redder.
"Well, to tell you the truth, Jer--" he was about to say "Jerry," but he found it hard now to call his congressman "Jerry," so he avoided names; "to tell you the truth," he repeated, "I never dreamed it of 'em. I never dreamed 'at there was an'thin' in the talk ag'inst you. I couldn't believe 'at any one could have it in fer you!" He looked up at Garwood with a trust and affection that were moving, though they did not move Garwood, who sat with his face averted, looking out of the window.
"But, you see," Rankin went on, "there was that row out at Ball's Corners, ol' man Barker was sore 'bout the post-office--"
"I never promised it to him!" Garwood interrupted.
"Well, he thought you did, leastways he said you did; an' then there was some farmers out in Briggs to'nship who claimed the seed you sent 'em wouldn't grow--"