The Candidate: A Political Romance

"Harley," he said, "I believe that after all my first intuition was correct. We may yet have trouble." Harley was not so sure. It seemed to him that the affair, which was really not an affair, merely the bud and promise of one, could be adjusted, especially in these shortening days of the campaign. Tact would do it, and he was full of hope. The members of the committee went into their private car and were inhospitable the remainder of the day; apparently they wished to be alone, and no one was inclined to violate their wish. Harley supposed that they were in conference, and he was correct. They arrived at Philipsburg in a gorgeous twilight that wrapped the Western mountains in red and gold, but Harley scarcely noticed either the town or the colors over it. He was full of anxiety, as he began to share Hobart's view that something was going to happen, although he did not take the same cheerful view of trouble. The speech at Philipsburg was not long. Again Jimmy Grayson skirmished around the dangerous question, but, as before, he did not make any direct attack upon it. Just when the committee became most alarmed, he withdrew his forces, and the speech once more closed with the decisive things unsaid. But as soon as the crowd dispersed, the Great Philipsburg Conference began. The large parlor of the hotel had been obtained, and when Jimmy Grayson started, he put his hand on Harley's shoulder, saying: "Harley, the press is excluded from this conference, which is secret, but I take you with me in your capacity as a private citizen. I have made it a requisite with the committee, because you are a friend and I may need your help." Harley gave him a glance of gratitude and appreciation, and the two together entered the designated room. It was a large, cheerful apartment, with a wood-fire burning on the broad hearth. The members of the committee were already there, and Mr. Goodnight stood importantly, back to the fire, with a hand in either pocket, and a coat-tail under either arm. Mr. Crayon leaned against the wall and gently stroked his arm. They exchanged the usual commonplaces about the weather and the campaign, and, as they spoke, most of the committee looked darkly at Harley, but they said nothing. It was quite evident that his presence was a matter arranged definitely by Mr. Grayson, and it was politic for them to endorse it. Mr. Grayson settled himself easily into an armchair, and looked around as if to say he was ready to listen. Harley stood by a window, careless in manner, seemingly, but never more watchful in his life, and on fire with curiosity. Mr. Goodnight glanced at Mr. Crayon, and Mr. Crayon glanced at Mr. Goodnight. There came at once to Harley an amusing thought about putting the bell on the tiger. But perhaps these men regarded themselves as tigers. Mr. Goodnight gave a premonitory cough, and taking his hands out of his pockets let his coat-tails drop. This also was a signal. "Mr. Grayson," he said, "we have admired your campaign--have admired it greatly; we have appreciated the skill with which you have kept away from dangerous subjects, and we have been sure that it would continue to the end, but I must confess that this confidence of ours was shaken a little to-day--I trust that I am not hurting your feelings." "Oh no, not at all. I also have a statement to make," said Jimmy Grayson, ingenuously. "But I shall be glad to hear yours first." The big men were somewhat disconcerted, and Mr. Crayon spoke up briskly: "Great issues at stake. In such emergencies Presidential nominees must hear advice." "You are right," said Jimmy Grayson, gravely. "A Presidential nominee ought always to listen to advice." Mr. Goodnight's face cleared. "We feel that we are in a position to speak plainly, Mr. Grayson," he said. "We are elderly men, used to the handling of large affairs, and--and this cannot be said of all others in our party. We noticed to-day how you skirted dangerously upon the tariff question, which we think--in fact, which we know--should be avoided. It is a dangerous thing, and we trust it is only an indiscretion that will not be repeated; or, perhaps, it might be a little sop to these people out here, who really do not count." Harley glanced at Jimmy Grayson, who was distinctly in the position of one receiving a lecture from his elders, and, therefore, from those who knew more than he. But the face of the candidate expressed nothing save gravity and attention. "That is quite true," he said. "I am glad that you recognize our need," said Mr. Goodnight. "I do not know how you feel personally upon this great question, but, as I take it, politics and one's private opinion are different things." Jimmy Grayson raised his head as if he were going to speak, but he let it drop without saying anything, and the great manufacturer continued: "It is often necessary to submerge the lesser in the greater, and never was there a more obvious instance of it than this. We, and by 'we' I mean the great financial interests of the party, are interested in the tariff, and believe that it is best as it is. We do not know how you stand personally, but there is no question how you should stand politically. We men of finance may be in a minority within the party in the matter of votes, but perhaps we may constitute a majority in other and more important respects." "All wings of the party are entitled to an opinion," said Jimmy Grayson. "True, but the opinion of one wing may be worth more than the opinion of another wing," continued Mr. Goodnight; "and for that reason we who stand at the centres from which the affairs of America are conducted are here. We see the unwisdom of approaching such a subject, and, above all, the destruction that would be caused if you were to speak fully upon it. It is a topic that must be eliminated." Harley saw a quick glitter appear in the eyes of Jimmy Grayson, and then it was shut out by the lowered lids. "But if this is an issue, and if I am to judge from the overwhelming testimony of the press it is an issue," said Mr. Grayson, gently, "ought I not in duty both to my party and myself declare how I stand upon it? I freely confess to you that the matter looks somewhat troublesome, and, therefore, I am glad that we can consult with one another." "Why troublesome?" exclaimed Mr. Crayon, shortly. "Seems to me, Mr. Grayson, that your shrewd political eye would see point at once. Above all things must avoid split in the party. Campaign will soon close, you are here in Far West, nothing can force you to speak, you avoid issue to the last; clever politics, seems to me." And Mr. Crayon rubbed his smooth chin, his eye lighting up with a satisfied smile. Harley glanced again at Jimmy Grayson, and saw a frown pass over his face, but it was fleeting, and when he spoke once more his voice was unemotional. "Clever politics is a phrase hard to define," he said. "One does not always know just where cleverness lies. I have not said anything definite upon this issue, but it doubtless occurs to you gentlemen that I may have opinions." The committee stirred, and Mr. Crayon and Mr. Goodnight looked at each other; it was evident to them that they had not taken the candidate in hand too soon. Harley felt no abatement of interest. "That is just the point," said Mr. Goodnight, "and so we have come West. We felt that we must act." Harley expected to see a flame of wrath appear on Jimmy Grayson's face, but the candidate was unmoved. "Of course you know what would happen if you were to declare for reduction," said Mr. Goodnight. They seemed to take it for granted that if he declared at all it would be for reduction. "Not at all," replied Mr. Grayson. "But I do," said Mr. Goodnight, with emphasis. "The wealthy, the important wing of the party, would be bound to disown you." "Ah!" said Jimmy Grayson. Harley felt a thrill of anger, but he did not move. The silent members of the committee, who were sitting, stirred in their chairs, and their clothes rustled importantly. They felt that equivocation and indirection were thrust aside, and the law was now being laid down. "Then I am to understand that silence on this question is a requisite," said Mr. Grayson, mildly. "Undoubtedly," replied Mr. Goodnight, with growing emphasis. "We are quite convinced of its necessity, and it is the demand that we make. A Presidential candidate must always listen to advice." "But sometimes it has seemed to me," said Mr. Grayson, musingly, "that in a Presidential campaign the public is entitled to certain privileges, or, rather, that it has certain rights, and chief among these is to know just how its candidate stands on any important issue." "It would never do! It would never do!" exclaimed Mr. Goodnight, hastily, and with some temper. "We cannot allow it!" Harley glanced again at Jimmy Grayson, but the candidate's lids were lowered, and no flash came from his eye. "I put it forward in a tentative way," he said, in the same mild and musing tone. "Of course, I may be mistaken. I have received many telegrams from important people asking how I stand, and I notice that the press is discussing the same question very actively." "They can be waved aside," said Mr. Crayon, loftily. "Telegrams can go unanswered, and why bother about a foolish press?" "Still," said Jimmy Grayson, mildly, but tenaciously, "the public has certain rights." "An ignorant mob that can be left in ignorance," said Mr. Crayon, briskly. "Nothing must be said! Nothing must be said! Quite resolved upon that!" exclaimed Mr. Goodnight, brusquely. "This resolution is unchangeable, I take it?" asked Jimmy Grayson, in tones milder than ever. "There is not the least possibility of a change," replied Mr. Goodnight, in a tone of finality. "We have considered the question from every side, and nothing is to be said. Of course, if you were to declare for a revision, we should have to abandon you at once to overwhelming defeat." "But I should like to say a few words upon the subject," said Jimmy Grayson, and there was a slight touch of pleading in his tone, "just as a sort of salve to my conscience. You see I am troubled about all these requests that I should declare myself, and I have certain ideas about what a candidate should do, in which I differ from you, and in which probably I am wrong, but I cannot help it. I should like to ease my mind, and hence I ask you that I be permitted to say a few words. Just one little speech, and I will not handle the subject again, if you direct me not to do so." "We are against it; we are against saying a single word," declared Mr. Goodnight. "Just one little speech," pleaded Jimmy Grayson. "I think the people are entitled to it. We stop to-morrow at a small station, a place of not more than twenty houses; I should like to say something there, and that would serve as a claim later on that I had not avoided the issue. But, as I said, I promise you that I will not touch the subject again without your permission." "Don't believe in it! Don't believe in it!" said Mr. Crayon, snappily. "I am afraid I shall have to insist," said Jimmy Grayson, plaintively. "I do not like to say anything that would displease such powerful friends, but our people are peculiar, sometimes. I feel that I must touch the subject a little when we reach Waterville to-morrow morning." He spoke in his most propitiatory tones, but the committee was still stirred. Mr. Goodnight, Mr. Crayon, and their associates demanded absolute silence, and they had not found it difficult to overawe the candidate. Yet there was a certain mild persistence in his tone which told them that they should humor him a little, as one would a spoiled or