“I’ll be gone in less than an hour,” said Hilary.

“Well,” said Mr. Flint, “let’s get down to hardtack.  I’ve got to be frank with you, Vane, and tell you plainly that this political business is all at sixes and sevens.”

“It isn’t necessary to tell me that,” said Hilary.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that I know it.”

“To put it mildly,” the president of the Northeastern continued, “it’s the worst mixed-up campaign I ever knew.  Here we are with the convention only two days off, and we don’t know where we stand, how many delegates we’ve got, or whether this upstart at Leith is going to be nominated over our heads.  Here’s Adam Hunt with his back up, declaring he’s a reformer, and all his section of the State behind him.  Now if that could have been handled otherwise—­”

“Who told Hunt to go in?” Hilary inquired.

“Things were different then,” said Mr. Flint, vigorously.  “Hunt had been promised the governorship for a long time, and when Ridout became out of the question—­”

“Why did Ridout become out of the question?” asked Hilary.

Mr. Flint made a gesture of impatience.

“On account of that foolishness in the Legislature, of course.”

“That foolishness in the Legislature, as you call it, represented a sentiment all over the State,” said Hilary.  “And if I’d been you, I wouldn’t have let Hunt in this year.  But you didn’t ask my opinion.  You asked me when you begged me to get Adam out, and I predicted that he wouldn’t get out.”

Mr. Flint took a turn up and down the room.

“I’m sorry I didn’t send for him to go to New York,” he said.  “Well, anyway, the campaign’s been muddled, that’s certain,—­whoever muddled it.”  And the president looked at his counsel as though he, at least, had no doubts on this point.  But Hilary appeared unaware of the implication, and made no reply.

“I can’t find out what Bascom and Botcher are doing,” Mr. Flint went on;
“I don’t get any reports—­they haven’t been here.  Perhaps you know. 
They’ve had trip passes enough to move the whole population of Putnam
County.  Fairplay says they’re gettin’ delegates for Adam Hunt instead of
Giles Henderson.  And Whitredge says that Jake Botcher is talking reform.”

“I guess Botcher and Bascom know their business,” said Mr. Vane.  If Mr. Flint had been a less concentrated man, he might have observed that the Honourable Hilary had not cut a piece of Honey Dew this afternoon.

“What is their business?” asked Mr. Flint—­a little irrelevantly for him.

“What you and I taught ’em,” said Mr. Vane.

Mr. Flint considered this a moment, and decided to let it pass.  He looked at the Honourable Hilary more closely, however.

“What’s the matter with you, Vane?  You’re not sick, are you?”

“No.”

Mr. Flint took another turn.

“Now the question is, what are we going to do?  If you’ve got any plan, I want to hear it.”