'Ain't he fairly LAPPED
in luxury? Look at that big house he lives in! Look at the way he goes
around in that phaeton of his--and a nigger to drive him half the time!'
I had to holler again, and, of course, that made Sim twice as mad as he
started out to be; and he went off swearing he'd show ME, before the
campaign was over. The only trouble he and Grist and that crowd could
give us would be by finding out something against Dave, and they can't
do that because there isn't anything to find out."
I shared his confidence on this latter score, but was somewhat less
sanguine on some others. There were only two newspapers of any political
influence in Wainwright, the "Despatch" and the "Journal," both operated
in the interest of Beasley's party, and neither had "come out" for him.
The gossip I heard about our office led me to think that each was
waiting to see what headway Sim Peck and his faction would make; the
"Journal" especially, I knew, had some inclination to coquette with
Peck, Grist, and Company. Altogether, their faction was not entirely to
be despised.
Thus, my thoughts were a great deal more occupied with Beasley's chances
than with the holiday spirit that now, with furs and bells and wreathing
mists of snow, breathed good cheer over the town. So little, indeed, had
this spirit touched me that, one evening when one of my colleagues,
standing before the grate-fire in the reporters' room, yawned and said
he'd be glad when to-morrow was over, I asked him what was the
particular trouble with to-morrow.
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