JERRY [_high-hatting him_]. Well, Idaho’s a rotten state. I wouldn’t come from that State. DORIS [_icily_]. Maybe they’d feel the same way about you. I’m going up and see Charlotte. I wish you’d entertain Mr. Fish politely for a minute. _Doris goes up-stairs. The two men sit down. Fish is somewhat embarrassed._ JERRY [_with a wink_]. Now she’s gone, better have a little drink. FISH. No, thanks. I don’t use it any more. I used to use it a good deal out in Idaho, and then I quit. _A faint, almost imperceptible noise, as of a crowd far away, begins outside. Neither of the men seems to notice it, however._ JERRY. Get good liquor up there? FISH. Well, around the shop we used to drink embalming fluid, but it got so it didn’t agree with me. JERRY [_focussing his eyes upon Fish, with some difficulty_]. I shouldn’t think it would. FISH. It’s all right for some fellas, but it doesn’t agree with me at all. JERRY [_suddenly_]. How old are you? FISH. Me? Twenty-five. JERRY. Did you ever--did you ever have any ambition to be President? FISH. President? JERRY. Yes. FISH. Of a company? JERRY. No. Of the United States. FISH [_scornfully_]. No-o-o-o! JERRY [_almost pleadingly_]. Never did, eh? FISH. Never. JERRY. Tha’s funny. Did you ever want to be a postman? FISH [_scornfully_]. No-o-o-o!... The thing to be is to be a senator. JERRY. Is that so? FISH. Sure. I’m goin’ to be one. Say! There’s where you get the _real_ graft. _Jerry’s eyes close sleepily and then start open._ JERRY [_attentively_]. Do you hear a noise? FISH [_after listening for a moment_]. I don’t hear a sound. JERRY [_puzzled_]. That’s funny. I hear a noise. FISH [_scornfully_]. I guess you’re seeing things. _Another pause._ JERRY. And you say you never wanted to be President? FISH. Na-ah! _The noise outside has now increased, come nearer, swollen to the dimensions of a roar. Presently it is almost under the windows. Fish apparently does not hear it, but Jerry knits his hairless brows and rises to his feet. He goes to the window and throws it open. A mighty cheer goes up and there is the beating of a bass drum._ JERRY. Good gosh! _Cli-in-ng! Cli-in-ng! Cli-in-ng! The door-bell! Then the door swings open, and a dozen men rush into the room. In the lead is Mr. Jones, a politician._ MR. JONES [_approaching Jerry_]. Is this Mr. Jeremiah Frost? JERRY [_with signs of fright_]. Yes. MR. JONES. I’m Mr. Jones, the well-known politician. I am delegated to inform you that on the first ballot you were unanimously given the Republican nomination for President. _Wild cheers from inside and out, and renewed beating of the bass drum. Jerry shakes Mr. Jones’s hand, but Fish, sitting in silence, takes no heed of the proceeding--apparently does not see or hear what is going on._ JERRY [_to Mr. Jones_]. My golly! I thought you were a revenue officer.