an insult. Said you should be kept out
of this state. Called you an impertinent ass."

Jimmy looked prodigiously hurt for a moment, and was then rather angry.

"Shucks! That's no way to act," he declared. "I can't help how I look
any more than he can. I reckon that either of us, or at least it goes as
far as I'm concerned, would change his looks if he could. If I had my
way I'd be as pretty as a cinema star and twice as soulful. Anyhow, I'd
look as different from that Judge as I possibly could. His face and
disposition would raise storm waves on a lake if it were filled with
glue. And he'd better look out! If he thinks he can run around this end
of my territory knocking me everywhere he goes I'll give him something
to talk about. I tried to be a good fellow with him, and--well!--I'm
just as sore as he is!"

The manager shook his head solemnly and rubbed his chin as if recalling
really unpleasant recollections.

"Don't blame you," he sympathized. "He's a pompous buck, all right. He's
out to get the Republican nomination for the governorship. Papers all
mention him regularly now. And the nomination in this state's just about
as good as the election. That's a cinch. He's a standpatter of the
gilt-edged variety. The only issue on which he hasn't shot his mouth off
is on votes for women. Nobody quite knows how he stands on that issue,
because he keeps dumb as an oyster on that point. But--I'm telling you
all this so you can see that in a way it's unlucky you look so much
alike."

"Good Lord!" declared Jimmy. "He ought to be mighty thankful he does
look like me. I'm a help, not a hindrance, to his campaign, if he had
sense enough to know it. Besides, as far as I can reason, politics isn't
of much more importance to the average individual than a rather pleasant
and easy dose of medicine he has to take about once every four years and
from which he never expects any benefit."

"Not so in this state," asserted the manager. "If you think there's no
interest in politics here, you'll find out differently before you make
your territory. Politics? It's all anyone will think of or talk about
for the next six weeks!"

"Politics may come and go, but chocolate runs forever!" declared Jim
with a wag of his finger, and then as the door blew open letting in a
draft of cold air, "Say, looks blizzardish, doesn't it?"

"If we don't get four feet of snow within the next two days we'll be
lucky," grumbled the manager. "Last winter at thi