pecial reasons for disliking
this one. His cousin was editor of the _World_, and that paper was
becoming a thorn in his side.

O'Brien took the cigar from his mouth. "Did youse go to the primary last
night?" he asked.

James did not even know there had been one. He had in point of fact been
at a Country Club dance.

"Can youse tell me what the vote of your precinct was at the last city
election?"

The budding statesman could not.

"What precinct do youse live in?"

Farnum was not quite sure. He explained that he had moved recently.

Big Tim grunted scornfully. He was pleased to have a chance to take down
the cheek of any Farnum.

"What do youse think you can do?"

"I can make speeches. I'm the best orator that ever came out of Verden
University."

"Tommyrot! How do youse stand in your precinct? Can youse get the vote
out to go down the line for us? That's what counts. Oratory be damned!"

James was pale with rage. The manner of the boss was nothing less than
insulting.

"Then you decline to give me a chance, Mr. O'Brien?"

"I do not. In politics a man makes his own chance. He gets along by
being so useful we can't get along without him. See? He learns the game.
You don't know the A B C of it. It's my opinion youse never will."

O'Brien's hard cold eye triumphed over him as a principal does over a
delinquent schoolboy.

His vanity stung, the lawyer sprang to his feet. "Very well, Mr.
O'Brien. I'll show you a thing or two about what I can and can't do."

For just an instant a notion flitted across Big Tim's mind that he might
be making a mistake. He was indulging an ugly temper, and he knew it.
This was a luxury he rarely permitted himself. Now he decided to "go the
whole hog," as he phrased it to himself later. His lips set to an ugly
snarl.

"It's like the nerve of ye to come to me. Want to begin at the top
instid of at the bottom. Go to Billie Gray if youse want to have some
wan learn youse the game. If you're any good he'll find it out."

James got himself out of the office with all the dignity of which he
was capable. Go to Billie Gray, the notorious ballot box stuffer! Take
orders from the little rascal who had shaved the penitentiary only
because of his pull! James saw himself doing it. He was sore in every
outraged nerve of him. Never before in his life had anybody sat and
sneered at him openly before his eyes. He would show the big boss that
he had been a fool to treat him so. And he would