Mr. Easterly sat in Mrs. Vanderpool's apartments in the New Willard, Washington, drinking tea. His hostess was saying rather carelessly: "Do you know, Mr. Vanderpool has developed a quite unaccountable liking for the idea of being Ambassador to France?"
"Dear me!" mildly exclaimed Mr. Easterly, helping himself liberally to cakes. "I do hope the thing can be managed, but--"
"What are the difficulties?" Mrs. Vanderpool interrupted.
"Well, first and foremost, the difficulty of electing our man."
"I thought that a foregone conclusion."
"It was. But do you know that we're encountering opposition from the most unexpected source?"
The lady was receptive, and the speaker concluded: "The Negroes."
"The Negroes!"
"Yes. There are five hundred thousand or more black voters in pivotal Northern States, you know, and they're in revolt. In a close election the Negroes of New York, Ohio, Indiana, and Illinois choose the President."
"What's the matter?"
"Well, business interests have driven our party to make friends with the South. The South has disfranchised Negroes and lynched a few. The darkies say we've deserted them."
Mrs. Vanderpool laughed.
"What extraordinary penetration," she cried.
"At any rate," said Mr. Easterly, drily, "Mr. Vanderpool's first step toward Paris lies in getting the Northern Negroes to vote the Republican ticket. After that the way is clear."
Mrs. Vanderpool mused.
"I don't suppose you know any one who is acquainted with any number of these Northern darkies?" continued Mr. Easterly.
"Not on my calling-list," said Mrs. Vanderpool, and then she added more thoughtfully: "There's a young clerk in the Treasury Department named Alwyn who has brains. He's just from the South, and I happened to read of him this morning--see here."
Mr. Easterly read an account of the speech at the Bethel Literary.
"We'll look this young man up," he decided; "he may help. Of course, Mrs. Vanderpool, we'll probably win; we can buy these Negroes off with a little money and a few small offices; then if you will use your influence for the part with the Southerners, I can confidently predict from four to eight years' sojourn in Paris."
Mrs. Vanderpool smiled and called her maid as Mr. Easterly went.
"Zora!" She had to call twice, for Zora, with widened eyes, was reading the Washington Post.
Meantime in the office of Senator Smith, toward which Mr. Easterly was making his way, several members of the National Republican campaign committee had been closeted the day before.
"Now, about the niggers," the chairman had asked; "how much more boodle do they want?"
"That's what's bothering us," announced a member; "it isn't the boodle crowd that's hollering, but a new set, and I don't understand them; I don't know what they represent, nor just how influential they are."