before the boss’s hat, and that the boss had returned the grand message that he’d see Perkins in the Hudson River before he’d go to his damned mugwump temple; and in two hours they also knew it, for they heard in no uncertain terms from the secretary of the Municipal Club, a reform organization, which had been instrumental in securing Perkins’s nomination, who demanded to know in an explicit yes or no as to whether any such message had been sent.  The denial was made, and then the lie was given; and many to this day wonder exactly where the truth lay.  At any rate, votes were lost and few gained, and many a worthy friend of good government lost heart and bemoaned the degeneration of the gentleman into the politician.

Perkins, worn out, irritated by, if not angry at, what he termed the underhanded lying of the opposition, drove home for luncheon, and found his wife and her mother in a state of high dudgeon.  They had been insulted.

“It was frightful the language that man used, Thaddeus,” said Mrs. Perkins.

“He wouldn’t have dared do it except by telephone,” put in the mother-in-law, whose notions were somewhat old-fashioned.  “I’ve always hated that machine.  People can lie to you and you can’t look ’em in the eye over it, and they can say things to your face with absolute opportunity.”

The dear old lady meant impunity, but it must be remembered that she was excited.

“Well, I think he ought to be chastised,” said Mrs. Perkins.

“Who?  What are you talking about?” demanded Thaddeus.

“That nasty O’Hara man,” said Mrs. Perkins.  “He said ‘he’d be damned’ over the wire.”

Thaddeus immediately became energetic.  “He didn’t blackguard you, did he?” he demanded.

“Yes, he did,” said Mrs. Perkins, the water in her eyes affecting her voice so that it became mellifluous instead of merely melodious.

“But how?” persisted Perkins.

“Well—­we—­we—­rang him up—­it was only as a surprise, you know, dear—­we rang him up—­”

“You—­you rang up—­O’Hara?” cried Perkins, aghast.  “It must have been a surprise.”

“Yes, Teddy.  We were going to settle the lamp question; we thought you were bothered enough with—­well, with affairs of state—­”

The candidate drew up proudly, but immediately became limp again as he realized the situation.

“And,” Mrs. Perkins continued, “we thought we’d relieve you of the lamp question; and as Mr. O’Hara is a great contractor—­the most noted in all Dumfries Corners—­isn’t he?”

“Yes, yes, yes! he is!” said Perkins, furiously; “but what of that?”

“Well, that’s why we rang him up,” said Mrs. Perkins, with a sigh of relief to find that she had selected the right man.  “We wanted Mr. O’Hara to dig the trench for the pipes, and lay the pipes—­”

“He’s a great pipe-layer!” ejaculated Perkins.

“Exactly,” rejoined Mrs. Perkins, solemnly.  “We’d heard that, and so we asked him to come up.”