His very attitude was an excuse, and the way in which he
handled his hat might have provoked profanity in any saint at all
addicted to nerves. Mr. Pewtap was more than usually crushed in his
appearance, and toed in more than was his custom, because he had come
on an awkward errand, and had been telling his host that he could not
vote for him in the coming election.
Mr. Strathmore had received this declaration with good-humor, and even
with no appearance of disapproval.
"Of course, Mr. Pewtap," he said, "I am human, and it would be
disingenuous for me to pretend that I am not pleased by the fact that
my name has been mentioned in connection with the bishopric. I can
conscientiously affirm, however, that the good of the church is more
dear to me than ambition. Even were it not, I hardly think that I am
capable of being offended with any man who felt it his duty to vote
against me."
He smiled with winning warmth. The other moved in his seat uneasily,
becoming momentarily more apologetic until he seemed to beg pardon for
existing at all.
"I have always felt," he said confusedly, "that you ought to be chosen.
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