So the old line parties got together. They made it a campaign of
Morality against imputed Vice. They selected as a fusion standard-bearer
George S. Partridge, a young lawyer of unblemished reputation--and of
untried strength.
"If Ruef succeeds a third time," Frank said to his father, "he'll
control the town. He'll elect a full Board of Supervisors ... that is
freely prophesied if Union Labor wins. You ought to see his list of
candidates--waffle bakers, laundry wagon drivers--horny-fisted sons of
toil and parasites of politics. Heaven help us if they get in power!"
"But there's always a final reckoning ... like the Vigilance Committee,"
said Francisco, slowly. "Somehow, I feel that there's a shakeup coming."
"A moral earthquake, eh?" laughed Jeanne. "I wouldn't want to have a
real one, with all of our new skyscrapers."
* * * * *
After dinner Stanley and his son strolled downtown together. Exercise
and diet had been recommended, Francisco was acquiring embonpoint. Frank
was enthusiastic over the new motor carriages called automobiles.
Robert had one of them--the gasoline type--with a _chauffeur_, as the
French called the drivers of such machines.
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