The 13th District: A Story of a CandidateWhitlock, Brand
General
The 13th District: A Story of a Candidate
Whitlock, Brand
Didactic fiction; Elections -- Fiction; Political campaigns -- Fiction; Political fiction; Social problems -- Fiction
"How stupid of me! To sit heah and talk of Ahthu' when Ah ought to have
known that yo' all weh dying to heah abaout yoah husband. Oh, yes, Ah
saw him at a distance a numbah of times, and one day Ah met him in the
rotunda of the Capitol. We weh in the gallery, Ahthu' and Ah, and had
heahd him make a speech."
Emily had leaned forward a little; her lips were parted, and her teeth
showed in the first smile of real interest she had displayed. She laid
her hand lightly on Dade's arm, finding it a comfort to touch some one
who had been there in Washington, some one who had seen him in his
proper place, some one who had heard him speak, who had spoken to him
and touched his hand.
"What speech was it, Dade?" she asked, eagerly. "The one in the tariff
debate, or----"
"Oh, goodness me'cy me!" ejaculated Dade. "Ah don't know what it was
on--yo' can't tell a wo'd they say, they all make so much noise. Ahthu'
said it was lak a sun dance of the Ogallalla Sioux."
"Tell me, how did he look?" Emily's eyes were glistening.
"He looked splendid, Emily, splendid. He rose, yo' know, suddenly, and
began to speak befo' Ah knew it was he at all. And he grew excited, and
all the othahs crowded in to heah--it must have been a great speech."
Emily made Dade tell her all she could recall out of her scattered
memories of that scene, and the glow in her eyes mingled all the love
she had borne him, all the hopes she had cherished, and all the high
envy of Dade, to whom it had been given to be there and behold that
scene.
"And how is he looking, tell me that?" asked Emily when Dade had told
her at last that she could think of no more to tell.
Dade turned toward her as if she had an unpleasant revelation to make,
and said, hesitatingly:
"Well, Emily--he's grown fat!"
She thought of the trim, narrow-waisted figure of her own brown soldier
lover. But Emily only laughed.
"Yes," she observed, "Mother Garwood says his father filled out at his
age."
Then Dade resumed her celebration of Beck once more, and described for
Emily the glories of the Army and Navy ball. And when she had done, she
sat, her chin on her little white fist, and looked dreamily out of the
open window into the cool green foliage of the trees, where some robins
were building a nest. Emily likewise fell into reverie, and they sat
there a long time before the reverie was broken. It was Dade at last
who said:
"Emily, ah mah'ied people happieh than single people?"
The childishness of the question was lost upon Emily, whose thoughts
had been busy with the unpleasant task of contrasting her own
girlhood's dreams and their fulfilment with the dreams of Dade and
their promise.
"No," she said in reply. Her voice was a mere hollow note.
"Ah yo' all happy?" said Dade.
"Y-yes," Emily answered. Her voice was still pitched on that hollow
note.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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