A man, the article said in closing, may, if he wishes, take
chances with his own fortune or his own reputation, but what right has
he to risk the public domain?
Several days went by after the appearance of this edifying story, but
Enoch made no move. Then the President summoned him to the White House.
"Enoch, shall you let that screed go unchallenged?" he demanded.
"What can I say, Mr. President?" asked Enoch. "And really, that sort
of thing doesn't bother me much. It is only the usual political mud
slinging. They are feeling me out. They want more than anything to
get me into a newspaper controversy with them. I am going to be
difficult to get."
"So I see!" retorted the President. "If you are not careful, old man,
people will begin to think Brown is right and you are afraid."
Enoch laughed. "I am not afraid of him or any other skunk. But also,
in spite of my red hair, I have a good deal of patience. I am waiting
for our friends to trot out their whole bag of tricks."
"What do you hear from Fowler?" asked the President.
"Nothing. I am desperately sorry that he has got mixed up with Brown.
He is a brilliant man and the party needs him. I hope his attitude
toward me has made no break in the pleasant relationship between you
and him, Mr.
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