Читать книгу The 13th District. A Story of a Candidate онлайн

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“Gosh!” he exclaimed, “I must be gettin’ home—I’ll try to fix it up somehow, Jerry. Don’t worry—just leave it to me.”

“If you think we ought to do it, Jim,” Garwood said, “I might borrow the—”

“Not a red cent for that pirate!” exclaimed Rankin, smiting the desk with his fist. “We’ll need all the money we can get in the campaign. Besides, he ain’t honest enough to stay bought.”

Though Rankin had told him not to worry, Garwood was depressed and troubled, and longed for sympathy. In the evening, when he found time to go to Emily, Pusey was uppermost in his mind.

“You’re tired, of course,” said Emily, “and how hoarse.”

“It’s the speaking, I reckon,” said Garwood. “I campaigned all week with old General Stager; we spoke outdoors to acres of people. How those old-timers stand it I don’t know. They can blow like steam whistles day and night. When I left the old gentleman last night at Mt. Pulaski, he was as fresh as a daisy—said he liked a little taste of the stump now and then—but that, of course, it wasn’t anything to what it used to be.”