Mayor James M. Curley of Boston, reluctant to temporize, has placed his demand for an appointment directly before President Roosevelt and Secretary Hull. A certain polite nebula hangs over the administration, and its views of Mr. Curley, but there can be little doubt that he has engineered a very disturbing situation. The strong light thrown on the more disagreeable phases of the patronage system, however, has brought a significant issue into relief.

In postponing his distribution of foreign and home service plums, Mr. Roosevelt is playing very shrewd politics. Probably there is no other sleight so successful in ensuring the support of a covetous representative body. The kindly eye of the administration is, at present, very valuable, and has been very skillfully and assiduously attracted by Congressional aspirants to office. But the difficult problems arise when one of the party sirens, such as Mr. Curley, grows suspicious and restive, and loudly demands prompt action. To grant Mayor Curley his appointment would antagonize and embitter an important political group; to refuse it would invite recriminations and disclosures which might create a very bad small indeed.

President Roosevelt will, of course, conduct himself from the situation with as much grace as Mr. Curley leaves him. The mayor given a Roman palace, would quickly shed his indignation, and an accession of peace might come to the President. But the angry Mr. Curley has drawn the veil from the rusty joints of patronage, extremely disquieting to public confidence, exactly at the psychological moment. Before his next outburst, the mayor might profitably ponder the tale of the man who killed the goose, and learn what happened to the golden eggs.