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Day, Holman (Holman Francis), 1865-1935

"All-Wool Morrison"

I wouldn't see anybody. I wouldn't talk with
anybody. Blast it! Corson, I don't know what to say to anybody!"
"Well, that's one point, at least, on which you and I can get together
even if we can't agree on anything else. If you have been so cursedly
exclusive as all that, North, perhaps you haven't been in touch with any
of the justices of the supreme court, as I have."
"You have, eh?"
"I called Davenport and Madigan on the telephone."
"What excuse could they give for sending their snap opinions over the wire
on the inquiry of a fool?"
"They offered no excuse. They couldn't. They knew nothing about any
telegrams till I informed 'em. They received no inquiry. They sent no
replies, naturally."
"That--that--Did that--" The Governor pawed at his scraggly neck. "He
faked all that stuff?"
"Absolutely!"
Comment which could not have been expressed in long speeches and violent
denunciation was put into the pregnant stare exchanged by the two men.
Then the Senator took another grip on his cigar with bared teeth and began
to march again.
"Corson, what's going to be done with that blue-blazed understudy of
Ananias?"
"Depend on the wrath of Heaven, perhaps," said the Senator, sarcastically.


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