One day there came a call from the State Committee
to come in and see the Secretary.
"Do you want to do something for the party?" asked Mr. Thwing, the
Secretary.
"I have already subscribed," said Quincy. "Do you need more?"
"Money talks," said Mr. Thwing, "and so do you. I have a score of
letters from different cities asking me to add you to our list of
speakers, and to be sure and let the writers hear you."
"I had no intention--" Quincy began.
"You're an ex-governor, and know all the State. Aren't you in the
grocery business in a big way?"
"Rather."
"'Twill boom your business in great style. Better even for groceries
than boots and shoes, for food is a daily consumption."
"I wouldn't go on the stump just to advertise my business."
"Of course not. You would take just what the gods provided and ask no
questions, and make no comments. Shall we put you down for, say,
twenty nights?"
Quincy consented, but he stipulated that he was not to be placed in
any city or town where he had a store.
Mr. Thwing vehemently objected. "Why, the men who want you to come
live where the stores are."
"I can't help it. Put me in the next town, and if they're so anxious
to hear me they'll come."
After the campaign was over, the votes cast, and the victory won, Mr.
Thwing said, "That was a good business idea of yours, Governor, about
your not going into the towns where your stores were.
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