He fanned himself with his
hat and feigned indifference to the admiration of his countrymen.
"Papa always gets more applause than that," Marian remarked to Sylvia.
"I was at the state convention two years ago and father came in late,
just as Mr. Thatcher did. They always come in late after all the stupid
speeches have been made; they're surer to stir up a big rumpus that
way."
Sylvia gave serious heed to these transactions of history. Her knowledge
of politics was largely derived from lectures she had heard at college
and from a diligent reading of newspapers. The report of the committee
on resolutions--a succinct document to each of whose paragraphs the
delegates rose in stormy approval--had just been read.
"I don't see how you can listen to such stuff," said Marian during a
lull in the shouting. "It's only the platform and they don't mean a word
of it. There's Colonel Ramsay, of Aurora,--the man with white hair who
has just come on the stage. He had dinner at our house once and he's
perfectly lovely. He's a beautiful speaker, but they won't let him speak
any more because he was a gold bug--whatever that is. They say Colonel
Ramsay has stopped gold-bugging now and wants to be governor. Sylvia,
all these men that don't want to be United States Senator want to be
governor. Isn't it funny? I don't see why silver money isn't just as
good as any other kind, do you?"
"They told me at college," said Sylvia, "but it's rather complicated.
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