“My daughter,” said the Senator, with a grave look, “I trust there was
nothing free in his manner?”
“Free?” repeated Laura, with indignation in her face. “With me!”
“There, there, child. I meant nothing, Balloon talks a little freely
sometimes, with men. But he is right at heart. His term expires next
year and I fear we shall lose him.”
“He seemed to be packing the day I was there. His rooms were full of dry
goods boxes, into which his servant was crowding all manner of old
clothes and stuff: I suppose he will paint ‘Pub. Docs’ on them and frank
them home. That’s good economy, isn’t it?”
“Yes, yes, but child, all Congressmen do that. It may not be strictly
honest, indeed it is not unless he had some public documents mixed in
with the clothes.”
“It’s a funny world. Good-bye, uncle. I’m going to see that chairman.”
And humming a cheery opera air, she departed to her room to dress for
going out. Before she did that, however, she took out her note book and
was soon deep in its contents; marking, dashing, erasing, figuring, and
talking to herself.
“Free! I wonder what Dilworthy does think of me anyway? One . . .
two. . .eight . . . seventeen . . . twenty-one,. . ‘m’m . . .
it takes a heap for a majority. Wouldn’t Dilworthy open his eyes if he
knew some of the things Balloon did say to me. There. . . .
Hopperson’s influence ought to count twenty . . . the sanctimonious
old curmudgeon. Son-in-law. . . . sinecure in the negro institution
. . . .That about gauges him . . . The three committeemen . . . .
sons-in-law. Nothing like a son-in-law here in Washington or a brother-
in-law . . . And everybody has ’em . . .Let’s see: . . . sixty-
one. . . . with places . . . twenty-five . . . persuaded–it is
getting on; . . . . we’ll have two-thirds of Congress in time . . .
Dilworthy must surely know I understand him. Uncle Dilworthy . . . .
Uncle Balloon!–Tells very amusing stories . . . when ladies are not
present . . . I should think so . . . .’m . . . ‘m. Eighty-five.
There. I must find that chairman. Queer. . . . Buckstone acts . .
Seemed to be in love . . . . . I was sure of it. He promised to
come here. . . and he hasn’t. . . Strange. Very strange . . . .
I must chance to meet him to-day.”
Laura dressed and went out, thinking she was perhaps too early for Mr.
Buckstone to come from the house, but as he lodged near the bookstore she
would drop in there and keep a look out for him.
While Laura is on her errand to find Mr. Buckstone, it may not be out of
the way to remark that she knew quite as much of Washington life as
Senator Dilworthy gave her credit for, and more than she thought proper
to tell him. She was acquainted by this time with a good many of the
young fellows of Newspaper Row; and exchanged gossip with them to their
mutual advantage.
They were always talking in the Row, everlastingly gossiping, bantering
and sarcastically praising things, and going on in a style which was a
curious commingling of earnest and persiflage. Col. Sellers liked this
talk amazingly, though he was sometimes a little at sea in it–and
perhaps that didn’t lessen the relish of the conversation to the
correspondents.
It seems that they had got hold of the dry-goods box packing story about
Balloon, one day, and were talking it over when the Colonel came in.
The Colonel wanted to know all about it, and Hicks told him. And then
Hicks went on, with a serious air,
“Colonel, if you register a letter, it means that it is of value, doesn’t
it? And if you pay fifteen cents for registering it, the government will
have to take extra care of it and even pay you back its full value if it