The Honorable Peter Stirling and What People Thought of Him Part 23

What makes a compliment uncomfortable is either a suspicion that the maker doesn't mean it, or a knowledge that it is not merited.

Peter went at once to his room on reaching the hotel in Saratoga, intending to make up the sleep of which his long "think" the night before had robbed him. But scarcely had the colored gentleman bowed himself out, after the usual "can I git de gentleman a pitcher of ice water" (which translated means: "has de gentleman any superfluous change?") when a knock came at the door. Peter opened it, to find a man outside.

"Is this Mr. Stirling's room?" inquired the individual.

"Yes."

"Can I see him?"

"Come in." Peter moved his bag off one of his chairs, and his hat and overcoat off the other.

"Mr. Stirling," said the stranger as he sat down, "I am Senator Maguire, and am, as perhaps you know, one of Porter's managers."

"Yes."

"We understand that you are friendly to us. Now, I needn't say that New York is otherwise a unit in opposing us."

"No," said Peter. "My fellow-delegates from the sixth, Schlurger and Kennedy, stand as I do!"

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"The change must have been very sudden. They were elected as Catlin men, we were told."

"Yes. But there's quite a different feeling in the ward now, and they have yielded to it."

"That's good news."

"We all three come here prepared to do what seems best."

The Senator's expression lost some of the satisfaction Peter's news had put into it. He gave a quick look at Peter's face, as if to try and find from it what lay behind the words. He hesitated, as if divided in mind over two courses of action. Finally he said:

"I needn't tell you that this opposition of practically the whole of the New York City delegation, is the most serious set-back to Porter's chance. Now, we have talked it over, and it seemed to us that it would be a great card for him if he could be nominated by a city delegate.

Will you do it?"

"I don't know him well enough, do I? Doesn't the nominating delegate have to make a speech in his favor?"

"Yes. But I can give you the material to-night. Or if you prefer, we'll give it to you all written for delivery?"

"I don't make other men's speeches, Mr. Maguire."

"Suit yourself about that. It shall be just as you please."

"The difficulty is that I have not decided myself, yet, how I shall vote, and of course such an act is binding."

Mr. Maguire's countenance changed again. "I'm sorry to hear that. I hoped you were for Porter. He's far away the best man."

"So I think."

The Senator leaned back in his chair, and tucked his thumbs into the armholes of his waistcoat. He thought he had fathomed Peter, and felt that the rest was plain sailing. "This is not a chap to be tolled. I'll give him the gaff at once," was his mental conclusion. Then he asked aloud:

"What do you want?"

It was a question susceptible of many different constructions, but as Mr. Maguire asked it, it seemed to him to have but one, and that not very honest. Peter hesitated. The temptation was strong to lead the Senator on, but he did not like to do it. It seemed to savor of traps, and Peter had never liked traps. Still--he did want to know if the managers on Porter's side would stoop to buy his support by some bargain. As Peter hesitated, weighing the pros and cons, Maguire spoke again.

"What does the other side offer you?"

Peter spoke quickly. "They haven't offered me anything, but advice. That is, Costell said he'd try and help me on some legislation I want--"

"Special?" interrupted Maguire.

"No, General. I've talked about it with Porter as well"

"Oh! Indeed?"

"I'm really anxious to get that. Otherwise I want nothing."

"Whew," said the Senator to himself. "That was a narrow squeak. If he hadn't spoken so quickly, I should have shown my hand before the call. I wonder if he got any inkling?" He never dreamed that Peter had spoken quickly to save that very disclosure.

"I needn't say, Mr. Stirling, that if you can see your way to nominate Porter, we shall not forget it. Nor will he. He isn't the kind of man who forgets his friends. Many a man in to-morrow's convention would give anything for the privilege we offer you."

"Well," said Peter, "I realize the honor offered me, but I don't see my way to take it. It will please me better to see him nominated by some one who has really stood close to him, than to gain his favor by doing it myself."

"Think twice, Mr. Stirling."

"If you would rather, I will not give you my answer till to-morrow morning?"

"I would," said Maguire rising, "Try and make it favorable. It's a great chance to do good for yourself and for your side. Good-night."

Peter closed his door, and looked about for a bit of blank wall. But on second thought he sat down on his window-sill, and, filling his pipe, tried to draw conclusions as well as smoke from it.

"I wonder," he pondered to himself, "how much of that was Maguire, and how much Porter? Ought I, for the sake of doing my best for my ward, to have let him go on? Has an agent any right to refuse what will help is client, even if it comes by setting pitfalls?"

Rap, rap, rap.

"Come in," called Peter, forgetting he had turned down his light.

The door opened and Mr. Costell came in. "Having a quiet smoke?" he asked.

"Yes. I haven't a cigar to offer you. Can you join me in a pipe?"

"I haven't come to that yet. Suppose you try one of my cigars." Costell sat down on the window-ledge by Peter.

"Thank you," said Peter. "I like a cigar, but it must be a good one, and that kind I can't afford." He lit the cigar, and leaned back to luxuriate in it.

"You'll like that, I'm sure. Pretty sight, isn't it?" Costell pointed to the broad veranda, three stories below them, gay with brilliant dresses.

"Yes. It's my first visit here, so it's new to me."