Everywhere he met answering smiles that told of the people's pride
in their young champion. Already James had discovered that
Americans are eager for hero worship. He meant to be the hero of
his state, the favorite son it would delight to honor. This was
what he loved: the cheers for the victor, not the clash of the
battle.
"Good morning, Farnum. What are the prospects?" It was Clinton
Rogers, of the big shipbuilding firm Harvey & Rogers, that stopped
him now.
"Still anybody's fight, Mr. Rogers." The young lawyer's voice fell
a note to take on a frankly confidential tone, an accent of
friendliness that missed the fatal buttonholing familiarity of the
professional politician. "If we can hold our fellows together
we'll win. But the Transcontinental is bidding high for votes--and
there's always a quitter somewhere."
"Does Frome stand any chance?"
"It will be Hardy or Frome. The least break in our ranks will be
the signal for a stampede to P. C. The Republicans will support
him when they get the signal. It's all a question of our fellows
standing pat."
"From what I can learn it won't be your fault if Hardy isn't
elected. I congratulate you on the best record ever made by a
ember in his first term.
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