In the liquid
line Josephine gave a choice of hot coffee and chocolate, thereby
joining issue for the first time with my manager on the subject of
methods. Nick was in favor of champagne, on the score that the Spinney
Guards had been regaled with beer and sherry, but my darling declared
that even if it were the turning-point of the election, she would not
consent to win votes by playing Hebe to beardless youths. A political
aspirant who is forced to decide between his manager and his wife has
need of all the philosophy at his command.
To atone for this obduracy, Josephine had a pleasant little surprise
ready in the shape of a basket of silken badges emblematic chiefly of
myself, and more remotely of the Presidential candidate and our party
principles. She and her daughters, despite my blushes, fastened these
one by one to the blue blouses of the members of the Fourth District
Reform Cadets after everything to eat and drink in the house had
vanished. Not only then, but henceforth until the end of the campaign,
it was embarrassing to me to note how subordinate a position every
other candidate held in Josephine's regard. One would have supposed
that I was the party nominee for the chief magistracy of the nation,
instead of the leader of a forlorn contest for a congressional seat in
a hopelessly Republican district.
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