“Don’t you see,” he said angrily, “that that will ruin our plans for the Cotton Combine?”
“Yes, I do,” replied Smith; “but it will not do the immediate harm that the amended Child Labor Bill will do.”
“What’s that?” demanded Cresswell, frowning again.
Senator Smith regarded him again: was Cresswell playing a shrewd game?
“Why,” he said at length, “aren’t you promoting it?”
“No,” was the reply. “Never heard of it.”
“But,” Senator Smith began, and paused. He turned and took up a circular issued by the Civic Club, giving a careful account of their endeavors to amend and pass the Child Labor Bill. Cresswell read it, then threw it aside.
“Nonsense!” he indignantly repudiated the measure. “That will never do; it’s as bad as the Education Bill.”
“But your wife is encouraging it and we thought you were back of it.”
Cresswell stared in blank amazement.
‚ÄúMy wife!‚Äù he gasped. Then he bethought himself. ‚ÄúIt‚Äôs a mistake,‚Äù he supplemented; ‚Äú Mrs. ¬ÝCresswell gave them no authority to sign her name.‚Äù
“She’s been very active,” Smith persisted, “and naturally we were all anxious.”
Cresswell bit his lip. “I shall speak to her; she does not realize what use they are making of her passing interest.”