IN THE ARENA

Stories of Political Life

BY

BOOTH TARKINGTON

TO MY FATHER

[Illustration: THE CONVERSION OF THE SENATOR FROM STACKPOLE]

CONTENTS

PART I

 Boss Gorgett The Aliens The Need of Money Hector

PART II

 Mrs. Protheroe Great Men's Sons

"IN THE FIRST PLACE"

The old-timer, a lean, retired pantaloon, sitting with looselyslippered feet close to the fire, thus gave of his wisdom to thequestioning student:

"Looking back upon it all, what we most need in politics is more goodmen. Thousands of good men _are_ in; and they need the others whoare not in. More would come if they knew how _much_ they areneeded. The dilettantes of the clubs who have so easily abused me, forinstance, all my life, for being a ward-worker, these and those otherreformers who write papers about national corruption when they don'tknow how their own wards are swung, probably aren't so useful as theymight be. The exquisite who says that politics is 'too dirty abusiness for a gentleman to meddle with' is like the woman who livedin the parlour and complained that the rest of her family kept theother rooms so dirty that she never went into them. 

"There are many thousands of young men belonging to what is for somereason called the 'best class, ' who would like to be 'in politics' ifthey could begin high enough up--as ambassadors, for instance. Thatis, they would like the country to do something for them, though theywouldn't put it that way. A young man of this sort doesn't know howmuch he'd miss if his wishes were gratified. For my part, I'd hate notto have begun at the beginning of the game. 

"I speak of it as a game, " the old gentleman went on, "and in someways it is. That's where the fun of it comes in. Yet, there are timeswhen it looks to me more like a series of combats, hand-to-hand fightsfor life, and fierce struggles between men and strange powers. You buyyour newspaper and that's your ticket to the amphitheatre. But thedistance is hazy and far; there are clouds of dust and you can't seeclearly. To make out just what is going on you ought to get down inthe arena yourself. Once you're in it, the view you'll have and thefighting that will come your way will more than repay you. Still, Idon't think we ought to go in with the idea of being repaid. 

"It seems an odd thing to me that so many men feel they haven't anytime for politics; can't put in even a little, trying to see how theircities (let alone their states and the country) are run. When we havea war, look at the millions of volunteers that lay down everything andanswer the call of the country. Well, in politics, the country needs_all_ the men who have any patriotism--_not_ to be seekingoffice, but to watch and to understand what is going on. It doesn'ttake a great deal of time; you can attend to your business and do thatmuch, too. When wrong things are going on and all the good menunderstand them, that is all that is needed. The wrong things stopgoing on. "

PART I

BOSS GORGETT

I guess I've been what you might call kind of an assistant boss prettymuch all my life; at least, ever since I could vote; and I wassomething of a ward-heeler even before that. I don't suppose there'sany way a man of my disposition could have put in his time to lessadvantage and greater cost to himself. I've never got a thing by it, all these years, not a job, not a penny--nothing but injury to mybusiness and trouble with my wife. _She_ begins going for me, first of every campaign. 

Yet I just can't seem to keep out of it. It takes a hold on a man thatI never could get away from; and when I reach my second childhood andthe boys have turned me out, I reckon I'll potter along trying to lookknowing and secretive, like the rest of the has-beens, letting on asif I still had a place inside. Lord, if I'd put in the energy at mybusiness that I've frittered away on small politics! But what's theuse thinking about it?

Plenty of men go to pot horse-racing and stock gambling; and I guessthis has just been my way of working off some of my nature in anotherfashion. There's a good many like me, too; not out for office orcontracts, nor anything that you can put your finger on inparticular--nothing except the _game_. Of course, it's apleasure, knowing you've got more influence than some, but I believethe most you ever get out of it is in being able to help your friends, to get a man you like a job, or a good contract, something he wants, when he needs it. 

I tell you _then's_ when you feel satisfied, and your time don'tseem to have been so much thrown away. You go and buy a higher-pricedcigar than you can afford, and sit and smoke it with your feet out inthe sunshine on your porch railing, and watch your neighbour'schildren playing in their yard; and they look mighty nice to you; andyou feel kind, and as if everybody else was. 

But that wasn't the way I felt when I helped to hand over to areformer the nomination for mayor; then it was just selfishdesperation and nothing else. We had to do it. You see, it was thisway: the other side had had the city for four terms, and, naturally, they'd earned the name of being rotten by that time. Big Lafe Gorgettwas their best. "Boss Gorgett, " of course our papers called him whenthey went for him, which was all the time; and pretty considerable ofa man he was, too. Most people that knew him liked Lafe. I did. But hegot a bad name, as they say, by the end of his fourth term asMayor--and who wouldn't? Of course, the cry went up all round that heand his crowd were making a fat thing out of it, which wasn't so muchthe case as that Lafe had got to depending on humouring the gamblersand the brewers for campaign funds and so forth. In fact, he had thereputation of running a disorderly town, and the truth is, it_was_ too wide open. 

But _we_ hadn't been much better when we'd had it, before Lafebeat us and got in; and everybody remembered that. The "respectableelement" wouldn't come over to us strong enough for anybody we couldpick of our own crowd; and so, after trying it on four times, westarted in to play it another way, and nominated Farwell Knowles, whowas already running on an independent ticket, got out by the reformand purity people. That is: we made him a fusion candidate, hoping tofind some way to control him later. We'd never have done it if wehadn't thought it was our only hope. Gorgett was too strong, and hehandled the darkeys better than any man I ever knew. He had anorganization for it which we couldn't break; and the coloured votersreally held the balance of power with us, you know, as they do so manyother places near the same size, They were getting pretty well on toit, too, and cost more every election. Our best chance seemed to be inso satisfying the "law-and-order" people that they'd do something tocounterbalance this vote--which they never did. 

Well, sir, it was a mighty curious campaign. There never really was aday when we could tell where we stood, for certain. As anybody knows, the "better element" can't be depended on. There's too many of 'emforget to vote, and if the weather isn't just right they won't go tothe polls. Some of 'em won't go anyway--act as if they looked down onpolitics; say it's only helping one boodler against another. So yourtrue aristocrat won't vote for either. The real truth is, he don't_care_. Don't care as much about the management of his city, State, and country as about the way his club is run. Or he's ignorantabout the whole business, and what between ignorance and indifferencethe worse and smarter of the two rings gets in again and old Mr. Aristocrat gets soaked some more on his sewer assessments. _Then_he'll holler like a stabbed hand-organ; but he'll keep on talkingabout politics being too low a business for a gentleman to mix in, just the same!

Somebody said a pessimist is a man who has a choice of two evils, andtakes both. There's your man that don't vote. 

And the best-dressed wards are the ones that fool us oftenest. We'realways thinking they'll do something, and they don't. But we thought, when we took Farwell Knowles, that we had 'em at last. Fact is, theydid seem stirred up, too. They called it a "moral victory" when wewere forced to nominate Knowles to have any chance of beatingGorgett. That was because it was _their_ victory. 

Farwell Knowles was a young man, about thirty-two, an editorial writeron the _Herald_, an independent paper. I'd known him all hislife, and his wife--too, a mighty sweet-looking lady she was. I'dalways thought Farwell was kind of a dreamer, and too excitable; hewas always reading papers to literary clubs, and on the speech-makingside he wasn't so bad--he liked it; but he hadn't seemed to me to knowany more about politics and people than a royal family would. He wasalways talking about life and writing about corruption, when, all thetime, so it struck me, it was only books he was really interested in;and he saw things along book lines. Of course he was a tin god, politically. 

He was for "stern virtue" only, and everlastingly lashed compromiseand temporizing; called politicians all the elegant hard names thereare, in every one of his editorials, especially Lafe Gorgett, whomhe'd never seen. He made mighty free with Lafe, referred to himhabitually as "Boodler Gorgett", and never let up on him from oneyear's end to another. 

I was against our adopting him, not only for our own sakes--because Iknew he'd be a hard man to handle--but for Farwell's too. I'd been afriend of his father's, and I liked his wife--everybody liked hiswife. But the boys overruled me, and I had to turn in and give it tohim. 

Not without a lot of misgivings, you can be sure. I had one littleexperience with him right at the start that made me uneasy and got meto thinking he was what you might call too literary, or theatrical, orsomething, and that he was more interested in being things than doingthem. I'd been aware, ever since he got back from Harvard, that_I_ was one of his literary interests, so to speak. He had a wayof talking to me in a _quizzical_, condescending style, in thebelief that he was drawing me out, the way you talk to some oldbook-peddler in your office when you've got nothing to do for a while;and it was easy to see he regarded me as a "character" and thought hewas studying me. Besides, he felt it his duty to study the wickednessof politics in a Parkhurstian fashion, and I was one of the lost. 

One day, just after we'd nominated him, he came to me and said he hada friend who wanted to meet me. Asked me couldn't I go with him rightaway. It was about five in the afternoon; I hadn't anything to do andsaid, "Certainly, " thinking he meant to introduce me to some friend ofhis who thought I'd talk politics with him. I took that for granted somuch that I didn't ask a question, just followed along up street, talking weather. He turned in at old General Buskirk's, and may I beshot if the person he meant wasn't Buskirk's daughter, Bella! He'dbrought me to call on a girl young enough to be my daughter. Maybe youwon't believe I felt like a fool!

I knew Buskirk, of course (he didn't appear), but I hadn't seen Bellasince she was a child. She'd been "highly educated" and had beenliving abroad a good deal, but I can't say that my visit made me_for_ her--not very strong. She was good-looking enough, in herthinnish, solemn way, but it seemed to me she was kind of overdressedand too grand. You could see in a minute that she was intense anddreamy and theatrical with herself and superior, like Farwell; and Iguess I thought they thought they'd discovered they were "kindredsouls, " and that each of them understood (without saying it) that bothof them felt that Farwell's lot in life was a hard one becauseMrs. Knowles wasn't up to him. Bella gave him little, quiet, deepglances, that seemed to help her play the part of a person whounderstood everything--especially him, and reverenced greatness--especially his. I remember a fellow who called the sort of game itstruck me they were carrying on "those soully flirtations. "

Well, sir, I wasn't long puzzling over why he had brought _me_ upthere. It stuck out all over, though they didn't know it, and wouldhave been mighty astonished to think that I saw. It was in theirmanner, in her condescending ways with me, in her assumption ofserious interest, and in his going through the trick of "drawing meout, " and exhibiting me to her. I'll have to admit that these youngpeople viewed me in the light of a "character. " That was the partFarwell had me there to play. 

I can't say I was too pleased with the notion, and I was kind of sorryfor Mrs. Knowles, too. I'd have staked a good deal that my guess wasright, for instance: that Farwell had gone first to this girl for hercongratulations when he got the nomination, instead of to his wife;and that she felt--or pretended she felt--a soully sympathy with hisambitions; that she wanted to be, or to play the part of, a woman ofaffairs, and that he talked over everything he knew with her. Iimagined they thought they were studying political reform together, and she, in her novel-reading way, wanted to pose to herself as thebrilliant lady diplomat, kind of a Madam Roland advising statesmen, orsomething of that sort. And I was there as part of their politicalstudies, an object-lesson, to bring her "more closely in touch" (asFarwell would say) with the realities he had to contend with. I wasone of the "evils of politics, " because I knew how to control a fewwards, and get out the darkey vote almost as well as Gorgett. Gorgettwould have been better, but Farwell couldn't very easily get at him. 

I had to sit there for a little while, of course, like a ninny betweenthem; and I wasn't the more comfortable because I thought Knowleslooked like a bigger fool than I did. Bella's presence seemed toexcite him to a kind of exaltation; he had a dark flush on his faceand his eyes were large and shiny. 

I got out as soon as I could, naturally, wondering what my wife wouldsay if she knew; and while I was fumbling around among theknick-knacks and fancy things in the hall for my hat and coat, I heardFarwell get up and cross the room to a chair nearer Bella, and thenshe said, in a sort of pungent whisper, that came out to medistinctly:

"My knight!" That's what she called him. "My knight!" That's what shesaid. 

I don't know whether I was more disgusted with myself for hearing, orwith old Buskirk who spent his whole time frittering around the clublibrary, and let his daughter go in for the sort of soulliness she wascarrying on with Farwell Knowles. 

 * * * * *

Trouble in our ranks began right away. Our nominee knew too much, anddid all the wrong things from the start; he began by antagonizing mostof our old wheel-horses; he wouldn't consult with us, and advised withhis own kind. In spite of that, we had a good organization working forhim, and by a week before election I felt pretty confident that ourshow was as good as Gorgett's. It looked like it would be close. 

Just about then things happened. We had dropped onto one of Lafe'slittle tricks mighty smartly. We got one of his heelers fixed (ofcourse we usually tried to keep all that kind of work dark fromFarwell Knowles), and this heeler showed the whole business up for aconsideration. There was a precinct certain to be strong for Knowles, where the balloting was to take place in the office-room of ahook-and-ladder company. In the corner was a small closet with oneshelf, high up toward the ceiling. It was in the good old free andeasy Hayes and Wheeler times, and when the polls closed at six o'clockit was planned that the election officers should set the ballot-box upon this shelf, lock the closet door, and go out for their suppers, leaving one of each side to watch in the room so that nobody couldopen the closet-door with a pass-key and tamper with the ballotsbefore they were counted. Now, the ceiling over the shelf in thecloset wasn't plastered, and it formed, of course, part of theflooring in the room above. The boards were to be loosened by aGorgett man upstairs, as soon as the box was locked in; he would takeup a piece of planking--enough to get an arm in--and stuff the boxwith Gorgett ballots till it grunted. Then he would replace the boardand slide out. Of course, when they began the count our people wouldknow there was something wrong, but they would be practically upagainst it, and the precinct would be counted for Gorgett. 

They brought the heeler up to me, not at headquarters (I was citychairman) but at a hotel room I'd hired as a convenient place for themore important conferences and to keep out of the way of everyTom-Dick-and-Harry grafter. Bob Crowder, a ward committee-man, brought him up and stayed in the room, while the fellow--his name wasGenz--went over the whole thing. 

"What do you think of it?" says Bob, when Genz finished. "Ain't itworth the money? I declare, it's so neat and simple and so almightysmart besides, I'm almost ashamed some of our boys hadn't thought ofit for us. "

I was just opening my mouth to answer, when there was a signal knockat the door and a young fellow we had as a kind of watcher in the nextroom (opening into the one I used) put his head in and saidMr. Knowles wanted to see me. 

"Ask him to wait a minute, " said I, for I didn't want him to knowanything about Genz. "I'll be there right away. "

Then came Farwell Knowles's voice from the other room, sharp andexcited. "I believe I'll not wait, " says he. "I'll come in there now!"

And that's what he did, pushing by our watcher before I could hustleGenz into the hall through an outer door, though I tried to. There'sno denying it looked a little suspicious. 

Farwell came to a dead halt in the middle of the room. 

"I know that person!" he said, pointing at Genz, his brow mightyblack. "I saw him and Crowder sneaking into the hotel by the back way, half an hour ago, and I knew there was some devilish--"

"Keep your shirt on, Farwell, " said I. 

He was pretty hot. "I'll be obliged to you, " he returned, "if you'llexplain what you're doing here in secret with this low hound ofGorgett's. Do you think you can play with me the way you do with yourpetty committee-men? If you do, I'll _show_ you! You're notdealing with a child, and I'm not going to be tricked or sold out ofthis elec--"

I took him by the shoulders and sat him down hard on a cane-bottomedchair. "That's a dirty thought, " said I, "and if you knew enough tobe responsible I reckon you'd have to account for it. As it is--why, I don't care whether you apologize or not. "

He weakened right away, or, at least, he saw his mistake. "Then won'tyou give me some explanation, " he asked, in a less excitable way, "whyare you closeted here with a notorious member of Gorgett's ring?"

"No, " said I, "I won't. "

"Be careful, " said he. "This won't look well in print. "

That was just so plumb foolish that I began to laugh at him; and whenI got to laughing I couldn't keep up being angry. It _was_ridiculous, his childishness and suspiciousness. Right there was whereI made my mistake. 

"All right, " says I to Bob Crowder, giving way to the impulse. "He'sthe candidate. Tell him. "

"Do you mean it?" asks Bob, surprised. 

"Yes. Tell him the whole thing. "

So Bob did, helped by Genz, who was more or less sulky, of course; andis wasn't long till I saw how stupid I'd been. Knowles went straightup in the air. 

"I knew it was a dirty business, politics, " he said, jumping out ofhis chair, "but I didn't _realize_ it before. And I'd like toknow, " he went on, turning to me, "how you learn to sit there socalmly and listen to such iniquities. How do you dull your conscienceso that you can do it? And what course do you propose to follow in thematter of this confession?"

"Me?" I answered. "Why, I'm going to send supper in to our fellows, and the box'll never see that closet. The man upstairs may get alittle tired. I reckon the laugh's on Gorgett; it's his scheme and--"

Farwell interrupted me; his face was outrageously red. "_What!_You actually mean you hadn't intended to expose this infamy?"

"Steady, " I said. I was getting a little hot, too, and talked morethan I ought. "Mr. Genz here has our pledge that he's not given away, or he'd never have--"

"_Mister_ Genz!" sneered Farwell. "_Mister_ Genz has yourpledge, has he? Allow me to tell you that I represent the people, the_honest_ people, in this campaign, and that the people and I havemade no pledges to _Mister_ Genz. You've paid the scoundrel--"

"_Here!_" says Genz. 

"The scoundrel!" Farwell repeated, his voice rising and rising, "paidhim for his information, and I tell you by that act and your silenceon such a matter you make yourself a party to a conspiracy. "

"Shut the transom, " says I to Crowder. 

"_I'm_ under no pledge, I say, " shouted Farwell, "and I do notcompound felonies. You're not conducting my campaign. I'm doing that, and I don't conduct it along such lines. It's precisely the kind offraud and corruption that I intend to stamp out in this town, and thisis where I begin to work. "

"How?" said I. 

"You'll see--and you'll see soon! The penitentiaries are built forjust this--"

"_Sh, sh!_" said I, but he paid no attention. 

"They say Gorgett owns the Grand Jury, " he went on. "Well, let him!Within a week I'll be mayor of this town--and Gorgett's Grand Jurywon't outlast his defeat very long. By his own confession this manGenz is party to a conspiracy with Gorgett, and you and Crowder arewitnesses to the confession. I'll see that you have the pleasure ofgiving your testimony before a Grand Jury of determined men. Do youhear me? And tomorrow afternoon's _Herald_ will have the wholeinfamous story to the last word. I give you my solemn oath upon it!"

All three of us, Crowder, Genz, and I, sprang to our feet. We wereconsiderably worked up, and none of us said anything for a minute orso, just looked at Knowles. 

"Yes, you're a little shocked, " he said. "It's always shocking to menlike you to come in contact with honesty that won't compromise. Youneedn't talk to me; you can't say anything that would change me tosave your lives. I've taken my oath upon it, and you couldn't alter mea hair's breadth if you burned me at a slow fire. Light, light, that'swhat you need, the light of day and publicity! I'm going to clear thistown of fraud, and if Gorgett don't wear the stripes for this myname's not Farwell Knowles! He'll go over the road, handcuffed to adeputy, before three months are gone. Don't tell me I'm injuring_you_ and the party by it. Pah! It will give me a thousand morevotes. I'm not exactly a child, my friends! On my honour, the wholething will be printed in to-morrow's paper!"

"For God's sake--" Crowder broke out, but Knowles cut him off. 

"I bid you good-afternoon, " he said, sharply. We all started towardhim, but before we'd got half across the room he was gone, and thedoor slammed behind him. 

Bob dropped into a chair; he was looking considerably pale; I guess Iwas, too, but Genz was ghastly. 

"Let me out of here, " he said in a sick voice. "Let me out of here!"

"Sit down!" I told him. 

"Just let me out of here, " he said again. And before I could stop him, he'd gone, too, in a blind hurry. 

Bob and I were left alone, and not talking any. 

Not for a while. Then Bob said: "Where do you reckon he's gone?"

"Reckon who's gone?"

"Genz. "

"To see Lafe. "

"What?"

"Of course he has. What else can he do? He's gone up any way. The besthe can do is to try to square himself a little by owning up the wholething. Gorgett will know it all any way, tomorrow afternoon, when the_Herald_ comes out. "

"I guess you're right, " said Bob. "We're done up along with Gorgett;but I believe that idiot's right, he won't lose votes by playing hobwith _us_. What's to be done?"

"Nothing, " I answered. "You can't head Farwell off. It's all my fault, Bob. "

"Isn't there any way to get hold of him? A crazy man could see thathis best friend couldn't _beg_ it out of him, and that hewouldn't spare any of us; but don't you know of some bludgeon we couldhang up over him?"

"Nothing. It's up to Gorgett. "

"Well, " said Bob, "Lafe's mighty smart, but it looks likeGod-help-Gorgett now!"

Well, sir, I couldn't think of anything better to do than to go aroundand see Gorgett; so, after waiting long enough for Genz to see him andget away, I went. Lafe was always cool and slow; but I own I expectedto find him flustered, and was astonished to see right away that hewasn't. He was smoking, as usual, and wearing his hat, as he alwaysdid, indoors and out, sitting with his feet upon his desk, and apleasant look of contemplation on his face. 

"Oh, " says I, "then Genz hasn't been here?"

"Yes, " says he, "he has. I reckon you folks have 'most spoiled Genz'susefulness for me. "

"You're taking it mighty easy, " I told him. 

"Yep. Isn't it all in the game? What's the use of getting excitedbecause you've blocked us on one precinct? We'll leave that closet outof our calculations, that's all. "

"Almighty Powers, I don't mean _that!_ Didn't Genz tell you--"

"About Mr. Knowles and the _Herald_? Oh, yes, " he answered, knocking the ashes off his cigar quietly. "And about the thousandvotes he'll gain? Oh, yes. And about incidentally showing you andCrowder up as bribing Genz and promising to protect him--making yourmethods public? Oh, yes. And about the Grand Jury? Yes, Genz toldme. And about me and the penitentiary. Yes, he told me. Mr. Knowles isa rather excitable young man. Don't you think so?"

"Well?"

"Well, what's the trouble?"

"Trouble!" I said. "I'd like to know what you're going to do?"

"What's Knowles going to do?"

"He's sworn to expose the whole deal, as you've just told me you knew;one of the preliminaries to having us all up before the next GrandJury and sending you and Genz over the road, that's all!"

Gorgett laughed that old, fat laugh of his, tilting farther back, withhis hands in his pockets and his eyes twinkling under his lastsummer's straw hat-brim. 

"He can't hardly afford it, can he, " he drawled, "he being therepresentative of the law and order and purity people? They're mightysensitive, those folks. A little thing turns 'em. "

"I don't understand, " said I. 

"Well, I hardly reckoned you would, " he returned. "But I expect ifMr. Knowles wants it warm all round, _I'm_ willing. We may beable to do some of the heating up, ourselves. "

This surprised me, coming from him, and I felt pretty sore. "You mean, then, " I said, "that you think you've got a line on something our boyshave been planning--like the way we got onto the closet trick--andyou're going to show _us_ up because we can't control Knowles;that you hold that over me as a threat unless I shut him up? Then Itell you plainly I know I can't shut him up, and you can go ahead anddo us the worst you can. "

"Whatever little tricks I may or may not have discovered, " heanswered, "that isn't what I mean, though I don't know as I'd be abovemaking such a threat if I thought it was my only way to keep out ofthe penitentiary. I know as well as you do that such a threat wouldonly give Knowles pleasure. He'd take the credit for forcing me toexpose you, and he's convinced that everything of that kind he doesmakes him solider with the people and brings him a step nearer thischair I'm sitting in, which he regards as a step itself to thegovernorship and Heaven knows what not. He thinks he's detachedhimself from you and your organization till he stands alone. _That_ boy's head was turned even before you fellows nominatedhim. He's a wonder. I've been noticing him long before he turned up asa candidate, and I believe the great surprise of his life was thatJohn the Baptist didn't precede and herald _him_. Oh, no, goingfor you wouldn't stop him--not by a thousand miles. It would only dohim good. "

"Well, what _are_ you going to do? Are you going to see him?"

"No, sir!" Lafe spoke sharply. 

"Well, well! What?"

"I'm not bothering to run around asking audiences of FarwellKnowleses; you ought to know that!"

"Given it up?"

"Not exactly. I've sent a fellow around to talk to him. "

"What use will that be?"

Gorgett brought his feet down off the desk with a bang. 

"_Then_ he can come to see _me_, if he wants to. D'youthink I've been fool enough not to know what sort of man I was goingup against? D'you think that, knowing him as I do, I've not been readyfor something of this kind? And that's all you'll get out of_me_, this afternoon!"

And it was all I did. 

 * * * * *

It may have been about one o'clock, that night, or perhaps a littleearlier, as I lay tossing about, unable to sleep because I was toomuch disturbed in my mind--too angry with myself--when there came aloud, startling ring at the front-door bell. I got up at once andthrew open a window over the door, calling out to know what waswanted. 

"It's I, " said a voice I didn't know--a queer, hoarse voice. "Comedown. "

"Who's 'I'?" I asked. 

"Farwell Knowles, " said the voice. "Let me in!"

I started, and looked down. 

He was standing on the steps where the light of a street-lamp fell onhim, and I saw even by the poor glimmer that something was wrong; hewas white as a dead man. There was something wild in his attitude; hehad no hat, and looked all mixed-up and disarranged. 

"Come down--come down!" he begged thickly, beckoning me with his arm. 

I got on some clothes, slipped downstairs without wakening my wife, lit the hall light, and took him into the library. He dropped in achair with a quick breath like a sob, and when I turned from lightingthe gas I was shocked by the change in him since afternoon. I neversaw such a look before. It was like a rat you've seen running alongthe gutter side of the curbstone with a terrier after it. 

"What's the matter, Farwell?" I asked. 

"Oh, my God!" he whispered. 

"What's happened?"

"It's hard to tell you, " said he. "Oh, but it's hard to tell. "

"Want some whiskey?" I asked, reaching for a decanter that stoodhandy. He nodded and I gave him good allowance. 

"Now, " said I, when he'd gulped it down, "let's hear what's turnedup. "

He looked at me kind of dimly, and I'll be shot if two tears didn'twell up in his eyes and run down his cheeks. "I've come to ask you, "he said slowly and brokenly, "to ask you--if you won't intercede withGorgett for me; to ask you if you won't beg him to--to grant me--aninterview before to-morrow noon. "

"_What!_"

"Will you do it?"

"Certainly. Have you asked for an interview with him yourself?"

He struck the back of his hand across his forehead--struck hard, too. 

"Have I tried? I've been following him like a dog since five o'clockthis afternoon, beseeching him to give me twenty minutes' talk inprivate. He _laughed_ at me! He isn't a man; he's an iron-hearteddevil! Then I went to his house and waited three hours for him. Whenhe came, all he would say was that you were supposed to be runningthis campaign for me, and I'd better consult with you. Then he turnedme out of his house!"

"You seem to have altered a little since this afternoon. " I couldn'tresist that. 

"This afternoon!" he shuddered. "I think that was a thousand yearsago!"

"What do you want to see him for?"

"What for? To see if there isn't a little human pity in him for afellow-being in agony--to end my suspense and know whether or not hemeans to ruin me and my happiness and my home forever!"

Farwell didn't seem to be regarding me so much in the light of acharacter as usual; still, one thing puzzled me, and I asked him howhe happened to come to me. 

"Because I thought if anyone in the world could do anything withGorgett, you'd be the one, " he answered. "Because it seemed to me he'dlisten to you, and because I thought--in my wild clutching at theremotest hope--that he meant to make my humiliation more awful bysending me to you to ask you to go back to him for me. "

"Well, well, " I said, "I guess if you want me to be of any use you'llhave to tell me what it's all about. "

"I suppose so, " he said, and choked, with a kind of despairing sound;"I don't see any way out of it. "

"Go ahead, " I told him. "I reckon I'm old enough to keep mycounsel. Let it go, Farwell. "

"Do you know, " he began, with a sharp, grinding of his teeth, "thatdishonourable scoundrel has had me _watched_, ever since therewas talk of me for the fusion candidate? He's had me followed, _shadowed_, till he knows more about me than I do myself. "

I saw right there that I'd never really measured Gorgett for as tallas he really was. "Have a cigar?" I asked Knowles, and lit onemyself. But he shook his head and went on:

"You remember my taking you to call on General Buskirk's daughter?"

"Quite well, " said I, puffing pretty hard. 

"An angel! A white angel! And this beast, this _boodler_ has themud in his hands to desecrate her white garments!"

"Oh, " says I. 

The angel's knight began to pace the room as he talked, clinching andunclinching his hands, while the perspiration got his hair allscraggly on his forehead. You see Farwell was doing some suffering andhe wasn't used to it. 

"When she came home from abroad, a year ago, " he said, "it seemed tome that a light came into my life. I've got to tell you the wholething, " he groaned, "but it's hard! Well, my wife is taken up with ourlittle boy and housekeeping, --I don't complain of her, mind that--butshe really hasn't entered into my ambitions, my inner life. Shedoesn't often read my editorials, and when she does, she hasn't beenserious in her consideration of them and of my purposes. Sometimes shediffered openly from me and sometimes greeted my work for truth andlight with indifference! I had learned to bear this, and more; to savemyself pain I had come to shrink from exposing my real self toher. Then, when this young girl came, for the first time in my life Ifound real sympathy and knew what I thought I never should know; aheart attuned to my own, a mind that sought my own ideals, a soul ofthe same aspirations--and a perfect faith in what I was and in what itwas my right to attain. She met me with open hands, and lifted me tomy best self. What, unhappily, I did not find at home, I found inher--encouragement. I went to her in every mood, always to be greetedby the most exquisite perception, always the same delicatereceptiveness. She gave me a sister's love!"

I nodded; I knew he thought so. 

"Well, when I went into this campaign, what more natural than that Ishould seek her ready sympathy at every turn, than that I shouldconsult with her at each crisis, and, when I became the fusioncandidate, that I should go to her with the news that I had taken myfirst great step toward my goal and had achieved thus far in mystruggle for the cause of our hearts--reform?"

"You went up to Buskirk's after the convention?" I asked. 

"No; the night before. " He took his head in his hands and groaned, butwithout pausing in his march up and down the room. "You remember, itwas known by ten o'clock, after the primaries, that I should receivethe nomination. As soon as I was sure, I went to her; and I found herin the same state of exaltation and pride that I was experiencingmyself. There was _always_ the answer in her, I tell you, alwaysthe response that such a nature as mine craves. She took both my handsand looked at me just as a proud sister would. 'I _read_ yournews, ' she said. 'It is in your face!' Wasn't that touching? Then wesat in silence for a while, each understanding the other's joy andtriumph in the great blow I had struck for the right. I left verysoon, and she came with me to the door. We stood for a moment on thestep--and--for the first time, the only time in my life--I receiveda--a sister's caress. "

"Oh, " said I. I understood how Gorgett had managed to be so calm thatafternoon. 

"It was the purest kiss ever given!" Farwell groaned again. 

"Who was it saw you?" I asked. 

He dropped into a chair and I saw the tears of rage and humiliationwelling up again in his eyes. 

"We might as well have been standing by the footlights in a theatre!"he burst out, brokenly. "Who saw it? Who _didn't_ see it? Gorgett'ssleuth-hound, the man he sent to me this afternoon, for one; thepoliceman on the beat that he'd stopped for a chat in front of thehouse, for another; a maid in the hall behind us, the policeman'ssweetheart _she_ is, for another! Oh!" he cried, "the desecration!That one caress, one that I'd thought a sacred secret between usforever--and in plain sight of those three hideous vulgarians, allbelonging to my enemy, Gorgett! Ah, the horror of it--what _horror_!"

Farwell wrung his hands and sat, gulping as if he were sick, withoutspeaking for several moments. 

"What terms did the man he sent offer from Gorgett?" I asked. 

"_No_ terms! He said to go ahead and print my story about the closet;it was a matter of perfect indifference to him; that he meant to printthis about me in their damnable party-organ tomorrow, in any event, and only warned me so that I should have time to prepare Miss Buskirk. Of course he don't care! _I'll_ be ruined, that's all. Oh, thehideous injustice of it, the unreason! Don't you see the frightfulirony of it? The best thing in my life, the widest and deepest; myfriendship with a good woman becomes a joke and a horror! Don't yousee that the personal scandal about me absolutely undermines me andnullifies the political scandal of the closet affair? Gorgett willcome in again and the Grand Jury would laugh at any attack on him. I'mruined for good, for good and all, for good and all!"

"Have you told Miss Buskirk?"

He uttered a kind of a shriek. "_No!_ I can't! How could I? What doyou think I'm made of? And there's her father--and all her relatives, and mine, and my wife--my wife! If she leaves me--"

A fit of nausea seemed to overcome him and he struggled with it, shivering. "My God! Do you think I can _face_ it? I've come to you forhelp in the most wretched hour of my life--all darkness, darkness!Just on the eve of triumph to be stricken down--it's so cruel, sodevilish! And to think of the horrible comic-weekly misery of it, caught kissing a girl, by a policeman and his sweetheart, thechambermaid! Ugh! The vulgar ridicule--the hideous laughter!" Heraised his hands to me, the most grovelling figure of a man I eversaw. 

"Oh, for God's sake, help me, help me. .. . "

Well, sir, it was sickening enough, but after he had gone, and Itumbled into bed again, I thought of Gorgett and laughed myself tosleep with admiration. 

When Farwell and I got to Gorgett's office, fairly early the nextmorning, Lafe was sitting there alone, expecting us, of course, as Iknew he would be, but in the same characteristic, lazy attitude I'dfound him in, the day before; feet up on the desk, hat-brim tilted'way forward, cigar in the right-hand corner of his mouth, his handsin his pockets, his double-chin mashing down his limp collar. Hedidn't even turn to look at us as we came in and closed the door. 

"Come in, gentlemen, come in, " says he, not moving. "I kind of thoughtyou'd be along, about this time. "

"Looking for us, were you?" I asked. 

"Yes, " said he. "Sit down. "

We did; Farwell looking pretty pale and red-eyed, and swallowing agood deal. 

There was a long, long silence. We just sat and watchedGorgett. _I_ didn't want to say anything; and I believe Farwellcouldn't. It lasted so long that it began to look as if the littleblue haze at the end of Lafe's cigar was all that was going tohappen. But by and by he turned his head ever so little, and looked atKnowles. 

"Got your story for the _Herald_ set up yet?" he asked. 

Farwell swallowed some more and just shook his head. 

"Haven't begun to work up the case for the Grand Jury yet?"

"No, " answered Farwell, in almost a whisper, his head hanging. 

"Why, " Lafe said, in a tone of quiet surprise; "you haven't given allthat up, have you?"

"Yes. "

"Well, ain't that strange?" said Lafe. "What's the trouble?"

Knowles didn't answer. In fact, I felt mighty sorry for him. 

All at once, Gorgett's manner changed; he threw away his cigar, theonly time I ever saw him do it without lighting another at the end ofit. His feet came down to the floor and he wheeled round on Farwell. 

"I understand your wife's a mighty nice lady, Mr. Knowles. "

Farwell's head sank lower till we couldn't see his face, only hisfingers working kind of pitifully. 

"I guess you've had rather a bad night?" said Gorgett, inquiringly. 

"Oh, my God!" The words came out in a whisper from under Knowles'stilted hat-brim. 

"I believe I'd advise you to stick to your wife, " Gorgett went on, quietly, "and let politics alone. Somehow I don't believe you're thekind of man for it. I've taken considerable interest in you for sometime back, Mr. Knowles, though I don't suppose you've noticed it untillately; and I don't believe you understand the game. You've said somepretty hard things in your paper about me; you've been more or lessexcitable in your statements; but that's all right. What I don't likealtogether, though, is that it seems to me you've been really tootingyour own horn all the time--calling everybody dishonest andscoundrels, to shove _yourself_ forward. That always ends in sortof a lonely position. I reckon you feel considerably lonely, just now?Well, yesterday, I understand you were talking pretty free about thepenitentiary. Now, that ain't just the way to act, according to mynotion. It's a bad word. Here we are, he and I"--he pointed tome--"carrying on our little fight according to the rules, enjoying itand blocking each other, gaining a point here and losing one there, everything perfectly good-natured, when _you_ turn up and beginto talk about the penitentiary! That ain't quite the thing. You seewords like that are liable to stir up the passions. It's dangerous. You were trusted, when they told you the closet story, to regard it asa confidence--though they didn't go through the form of pledgingyou--because your people had given their word not to betray Genz. Butyou couldn't see it and there you went, talking about the Grand Juryand stripes and so on, stirring up passions and ugly feelings. And Iwant to tell you that the man who can afford to do that has to bemighty immaculate himself. The only way to play politics, whateveryou're _for_, is to learn the game first. Then you'll know howfar you can go and what your own record will stand. There ain't a manalive whose record will stand too much, Mr. Knowles--and when you getto thinking about that and what your own is, it makes you feel morelike treating your fellow-sinners a good deal gentler than you wouldotherwise. Now _I've_ got a wife and two little girls, and my oldmother's proud of me (though you wouldn't think it) and they'd hate ita good deal to see me sent over the road for playing the game the bestI could as I found it. "

He paused for a moment, looking sad and almost embarrassed. "It ain'tany great pleasure to me, " he said, "to think that the people have letit get to be the game that it is. But I reckon it's good for_you_. I reckon the best thing that ever happened to you ishaving to come here this morning to ask mercy of a man you looked downon. "

Farwell shifted a little in his chair, but he didn't speak, andGorgett went on:

"I suppose you think it's mighty hard that your private charactershould be used against you in a political question by a man you call apublic corruptionist. But I'm in a position where I can't take anychances against an antagonist that won't play the game my way. I hadto find your vulnerable point to defend myself, and, in finding it, Ifind that there's no need to defend myself any longer, because itmakes all your weapons ineffective. I believe the trouble with you, Mr. Knowles, is that you've never realized that politicians are humanbeings. But we are: we breathe and laugh and like to do right, likeother folks. And, like most men, you've thought you were differentfrom other men, and you aren't. So, here you are. I believe you saidyou'd had a hard night?"

Knowles looked up at last, his lips working for a while before hecould speak. "I'll resign now--if you'll--if you'll let me off, " hesaid. 

Gorgett shook his head. "I've got the election in my hand, " heanswered, "though you fellows don't know it. You've got nothing tooffer me, and you couldn't buy me if you had. "

At that, Knowles just sank into himself with a little, faint cry, in akind of heap. There wasn't anything but anguish and despair _to_him. Big tears were sliding down his cheeks. 

I didn't say anything. Gorgett sat looking at him for a good while;and then his fat chin began to tremble a little and I saw his eyesshining in the shadow under his old hat-brim. 

He got up and went over to Farwell with slow steps and put his handgently on his shoulder. 

"Go on home to your wife, " he said, in a low voice that was thesaddest I ever heard. "I don't bear you any ill-will in theworld. Nobody's going to give you away. "

THE ALIENS

Pietro Tobigili, that gay young chestnut vender--he of the radiantsmiles--gave forth, in his warm tenor, his own interpretation of "Achdu lieber Augustine, " whenever Bertha, rosy waitress in the littleGerman restaurant, showed her face at the door. For a month it hadbeen a courtship; and the merchant sang often:

_"Ahaha, du libra Ogostine, Ogostine, Ogostine!Ahaha, du libra Ogostine, Nees coma ross. "_

The acquaintance, begun by the song and Pietro's wonderful laugh, hadgrown tender. The chestnut vender had a way with him; he looked likethe "Neapolitan Fisher Lad" of the chromos, and you could have fanciedhim of two centuries ago, putting a rose in his hair; even as it was, he had the ear-rings. But the smile of him it was that won Bertha, when she came to work in the little restaurant. It was a smile thatput the world at its ease; it proclaimed the coming of morning overthe meadows, and, taking every bystander into an April friendship, ranon suddenly into a laugh that was like silver, and like a strangepuppy's claiming you for the lost master. 

So it befell that Bertha was fascinated; that, blushing, she laughedback to him, and was nothing offended when, at his first sight of her, he rippled out at once into "Ahaha, du libra Ogostine. "

Within two weeks he was closing his business (no intricate matter)every evening, to walk home with her, through the September moonlight. Then extraordinary things happened to the English language. 

"I ain'd nefer can like no foreigner!" she often joked back to aquestion of his. "Nefer, nefer! you t'ink I'm takin' up mit ahant-orkan maan, Mister Toby?"

Whereupon he would carol out the tender taunt, "Ahaha, du libraOgostine!"

"Yoost a hant-orkan maan!"

"No! _No_! No oragan! I am a greata--greata merchant. Vote aRepublican! Polititshian! To-bigli, Chititzen Republican. Naturalasize! March in a parade!"

Never lived native American prouder of his citizenship than thisadopted one. Had he not voted at the election? Was he not a member ofthe great Republican party? He had eagerly joined it, for the reasonthat he had been a Republican in Italy, and he had drawn with him tothe polls his second cousin, Leo Vesschi, and the five other Italianswith whom he lived. For this, he had been rewarded by Pixley, hisprecinct committee-man, who allowed him to carry pink torches in threenight processions. 

"You keeb oud politigs, " said Bertha, earnestly, one evening. "Myuncle, Louie Gratz, he iss got a neighbour-lady; her man gone inpolitigs. After_vorts_ he git it! He iss in der bennidenshierrytwo years. You know why?"

"Democrat!" shouted the chestnut vender triumphantly. 

"No, sir! Yoost politigs, " replied the unpartisan Bertha. "You keeboud politigs. "

_"Ahaha, du libra Ogostine, Ogostine, Ogostine!Ahaha, du libra Ogostine, Nees coma ross. "_

The song was always a teasing of her and carried all his friendlylaughter at her, because of her German ways; but it became softlyexultant whenever she betrayed her interest in him. 

"Libra Ogostine, she afraid I go penitensh?" he inquired. 

"Me!" she jeered with uneasy laughter. "_I_ ain'd care! butyou--you don' look oud, you git in dod voikhouse!"

He turned upon her, suddenly, a face like a mother's, and touched herhand with a light caress. 

"I stay in a workhouse sevena-hunder' year, " he said gently, "you comeseeta by window some-a-time. "

At this Bertha turned away, was silent for a space, leaning on thegate-post in front of her uncle's house, whither they were nowcome. Finally she answered brokenly: "I ain'd sit by no vinder foryoost a jessnut maan. " This was her way of stimulating his ambition. 

"Ahaha!" he cried. "You don' know? I'm goin' buy beeg stan'! Candy!Peanut! Banan'! Make some-a-time four dollar a day! 'Tis a greatacountra! Bimaby git a store! Ride a buggy! Smoke a cigar! You playpiano! Vote a Republican!"

"Toby!"

"Tis true!"

"Toby, " she said tearfully; "Toby, you voik hart, und safe yourmoney?"

"You help?" he whispered. 

"I help--_you_!" she cried loudly. Then, with a sudden fit ofsobbing, she flung open the gate and ran at the top of her speed intothe house. 

Halcyon the days for Pietro Tobigli, extravagant the jocularity ofthis betrothed one. And, as his happiness, so did his prosperityincrease; the little chestnut furnace became the smallest adjunct ofhis affairs; for he leaped (almost at one bound) to the proprietorshipof a wooden stand, shaped like the crate of an upright piano andbacked up against the brick wall of the restaurant--a mercantile housewhich was closed at night by putting the lid on. All day long Toby'ssmile arrested pedestrians, and compelled them to buy of him, makinghis wares sweeter in the mouth. Bertha dwelt in a perpetual serenade:on warm days, when the restaurant doors were open, she could hear himsinging, not always "Ogostine, " but festal lilts of Italy, liquid andstrangely sweet to her; and at such times, when the actual voice wasnot in her ears, still she blushed with delight to hear in her heartthe thrilling echoes of his barcaroles, and found them hummingcheerily upon her own lips. 

Toby was to save five hundred dollars before they married, a greatsum, but they were patient and both worked very hard. The winter wouldhave fallen bitterly upon an outdoor merchant lacking Toby's confidentheart, but on the coldest days, when Bertha looked out, she alwaysfound him slapping his hands, and trudging up and down in the snow infront of the little box; and, as soon as he caught sight ofher--"Aha-ha, du libra Ogostine, Ogostine, Ogostine!"

She saved her own money with German persistence, and on Christmas dayher present to her betrothed, in return for a coral pin, was a pair ofrubber boots filled with little cakes. 

Elysium was the dwelling-place of Pietro Tobigli, though, apparently, he abode in a horrible slum cellar with Leo Vesschi and the five Lattibrothers. In this place our purveyor of sweetmeats was the onlylight. Thither he had carried his songs and his laugh and his furnacewhen he came from Italy to join Vesschi; and there he remained, partlyout of loyalty to his un-prosperous comrades, and partly because hisshare of the expense was only twenty-five cents a week, and everysaving was a saving for Bertha. Every evening, on the homeward walk, the affianced pair passed the hideous stairway that led down to thecellar, and Bertha, neat soul, never failed to shudder at it. She didnot know that Pietro lived there, for he feared it might distress her;nor could she ever persuade him to tell her where he lived. 

Because of this mystery, upon which he merrily insisted, she affecteda fear that he would some day desert her. "You don' tell me where youlif, I t'ink you goin' ran away of me, Toby. I vake opp some day; gita ledder dod you gone back home by 'Talian lady dod's grazy 'boutyou!"

"Ahaha! Libra Ogostine, you believe I can make a write weet apen-a-paper? I don' know that-a _how_. Some-a-time you _see_that gran' palazzo where I leef. Eesa greata-great sooraprise!"

In the gran' palazzo, it was as much as he could do to keep clean hisown grim little bunk in the corner. His comrades, sullen, hopeless, came at evening from ten hours' desperate shovelling, and exhibited noambition for water or brooms, but sat hunched and silent, or moroselymuttering and coughing, in the dark room with its sodden earthenfloor, stained walls, and one smoky lamp. 

To this uncomfortable chamber repaired, one March evening, Mr. FrankPixley, Republican precinct committee-man, nor was its dinginess anunharmonious setting for that political brilliant. He was apock-pitted, damp-looking, soiled little fungus of a man, who hadattained to his office because, in the dirtiest precinct of thewickedest ward in the city, he had, through the operation of abefitting ingenuity, forced a recognition of his leadership. From suchan office, manned by a Pixley, there leads an upward ramification ofwires, invisible to all except manipulators, which extends to highersurfaces. Usually the Pixley is a deep-sea puppet, wholly controlledby the dingily gilded wires that run down to him; but there are timeswhen the Pixley gives forth initial impulses of his own, such as mayalter the upper surface; for, in a system of this character, everytwitch is felt throughout the whole ramification. 

"Hello, boys, " the committee-man called out with automatic geniality, as he descended the broken steps. "How are ye? All here? That's good;that's the stuff! Good work!"

Only Toby replied with more than an indifferent grunt; but he ranforward, carrying an empty beer keg which he placed as a seat for theguest. 

"Aha_ha_, Meesa Peeslay! Make a parade? Torchlight?Bandaplay--ta ra, la la la? Firework? Fzzz! Boum! Eh?"

The politician responded to Toby's extravagantly friendly laughterwith some mechanical cachinnations which, like an obliging salesman, he turned on and off with no effort. "Not by a dern sight!" heanswered. "The campaign ain't begun yet. "

"Champagne?" inquired Tobigli politely. 

"Campaign, campaign, " explained Pixley. "Not much champagne inyours!" he chuckled beneath his breath. "Blame lucky to git Chicagobowl!"

"What is that, that campaign?"

"Why--why, it's the campaign. Workin' up public sentiment; gittin' youboys in line, 'lect-ioneerin'--fixin' it _right_. "

Tobigli shook his head. "Campaign?" he repeated. 

"Why--Gee, _you_ know! Free beer, cigars, speakin', handshaking, paradin'--"

"Ahaha!" The merchant sprang to his feet with a shout. "Yes!Hoor-r-ra! Vote a Republican! Dam-a Democrat!"

"That's it, " replied the committee-man somewhat languidly. "You see, this is a Republican precinct, and it turns the ward--"

"Allaways a Republican!" vociferated Pietro. "That eesa right?"

"Well, " said the other, "of course, whichever way you go, you want tofollow your precinct committee-man--that's me. "

"Yess! Vote a Republican. "

Pixley looked about the room, his little red eyes peering out cannilyfrom under his crooked brows at each of the sulky figures in the dampshadows. 

"You boys all vote the way Pete says?" he asked. 

"Vote same Pietro, " answered Vesschi. "Allaways. "

"Allaways a Republican, " added Pietro sparkingly, with abundantgesture. "'Tis a greata-great countra. Republican here same aRepublican at home--eena Etallee. Republican eternall! All goodRepublican eena thees house! Hoor-r-ra!"

"Well, " said Pixley, with a furtiveness half habit, as he rose to go, "of course, you want to keep your eye on your committee-man, and kindof foller along with him, whatever he does. That's me. " He placed adingy bottle on the keg. "I jest dropped in to see how you boys weregittin' along--mighty tidy little place you got here. " He changed thestub of his burnt-out cigar to the other side of his mouth, shiftinghis eyes in the opposite direction, as he continued benevolently: "Ithought I'd look in and leave this bottle o' gin fer ye, with mycompliments. I'll be around ag'in some evenin', and I reckon before'lection day comes there may be somep'n doin'--I might have better ferye than a bottle. Keep your eye on me, boys, an' foller theleader. That's the idea. So long!"

"Vote a Republican!" Pietro shouted after him gaily. 

Pixley turned. 

"Jest foller yer leader, " he rejoined. "That's the way to learnpolitics, boys. "

Now as the rough spring wore on into the happier season, with the dayslike spiced warm wine, when people on the street are no longer drivenby the weather but are won by it to loiter; now, indeed, did commerceat Toby's new stand so mightily thrive that, when summer came, Berthawas troubled as to the safety of Toby's profits. 

"You yoost put your money by der builtun-loan 'sociation, Toby, " sheadvised gently. "Dey safe ut fer you. "

"T'ree hunder' fifta dolla--_no_!" answered her betrothed. "Ikeep in de pock'!" He showed her where the bills were pinned into hiscorduroy waistcoat pocket. "See! Eesa _yau!_ Onna my heart, libraOgostine!"

"Toby, uf you ain'd dake ut by der builtun-loan, _blease_ put utin der bink?"

"I keep!" he repeated, shaking his head seriously. "In t'ree-fourmont' eesa five-hunder-dolla. Nobody but me eesa tross weet thatmoney. "

Nor could Bertha persuade him. It was their happiness he watchedover. Who to guard it as he, the dingy, precious parcel of bills? Hepictured for himself a swampy forest through which he was laying apathway to Bertha, and each of the soiled green notes that he pinnedin his waistcoat was a strip of firm ground he had made, over which headvanced a few steps nearer her. And Bertha was very happy, evenforgetting, for a while, to be afraid of the smallpox, which hadthrown out little flags, like auction signs, here and there about thecity. 

When the full heat of summer came, Pietro laughed at the dog-days; andit was Bertha's to suffer in the hot little restaurant; but she smiledand waved to Pietro, so that he should not know. Also she made himsell iced lemonade and birch beer, which was well for the corduroywaistcoat pocket. Never have you seen a more alluring merchant. Oneglance toward the stand; you caught that flashing smile, the owner ofit a-tip-toe to serve you; and Pietro managed, too, by a light jog tothe table on which stood his big, bedewed, earthen jars, that youbecame aware of the tinkle of ice and a cold, liquid murmur--whatmortal could deny the inward call and pass without stopping to buy?

There fell a night in September when Bertha beheld her loverglorious. She had been warned that he was to officiate in the greatopening function of the campaign; and she stood on the corner for anhour before the head of the procession appeared. On theycame--Pietro's party, three thousand strong; brass bands, fireworks, red fire, tumultuous citizens, political clubs, local potentates inopen carriages, policemen, boys, dogs, bicycles--the procession doingall the cheering for itself, the crowds of spectators only feeblyresponding to this enthusiasm, as is our national custom. At the endof it all marched a plentiful crew of tatterdemalions, a few blearedwhite men, and the rest negroes. They bore aloft a crazy transparency, exhibiting the legend:

"FRANK PIXLEY'S HARD-MONEY LEAGUE. 

WE STAND FOR OUR PRINCIPALS. 

WE ARE SOLLID!

NO FOOLING THE PEOPLE GOES!

WE VOTE AS ONE MAN FOR

TAYLOR P. SINGLETON!"

Bertha's eyes had not rested upon Toby where they innocently soughthim, in the front ranks, even scanning the carriages, seeking him inall positions which she conceived as highest in honour, and she wouldhave missed him altogether, had not there reached her, out of chaoticclamours, a clear, high, rollicking tenor:

_"Ahaha! du libra Ogostine, Ogostine, Ogostine!Ahaha! du libra Ogostine, Nees coma ross!"_

Then the eager eyes found their pleasure, for there, in the last lineof Pixley's pirates, the very tail of the procession, danced PietroTobigli, waving his pink torch at her, proud, happy, triumphant, atrue Republican, believing all company equal in the republic, and therear rank as good as the first. 

"Vote a Republican!" he shouted. "Republican--Republican eternall!"

Strangely enough, a like fervid protestation (vociferated in greeting)evoked no reciprocal enthusiasm in the breast of Mr. Pixley, when thecommittee-man called upon Toby and his friends at their apartment oneevening, a fortnight later. 

"That's right, " he responded languidly. "That's right in gineral, I_should_ say. Cert'nly, in _gineral_, I ain't got no quarrelwith no man's Republicanism. But this here's kind of a put-ticklercase, boys. The election's liable to be mighty close. "

"Republican win!" laughed Toby. "Meelyun man eena parade!"

Mr. Pixley's small eyes lowered furtively. He glanced once toward thedoor, stroked his stubby chin, and answered softly: "Don't you be toosure of that, young feller. Them banks is fightin' each other ag'in!"

"Bank? Fight? W'at eesa that?" inquired the merchant, with an entirelyblank mind. 

"There's one thing it _ain't_, " replied the other, in the sameconfidential tone. "It ain't no two-by-four campaign. All I got to sayto you boys is: 'Foller yer leader'--and you'll wear pearlcollar-buttons!"

"Vote a Republican, " interjected Leo Vesschi gutturally. 

The furtiveness of Mr. Pixley increased. 

"Well--mebbe, " he responded, very deliberately. "I reckon I betterput you boys next, right now's well's any other time. Ain't nothin'ever gained by not bein' open 'n' above-board; that's my motto, and Iack up to it. You kin ast 'em, jest ast the boys, and you'll hear itfrom each-an-dall: 'Frank Pixley's _square_!' That's what they'lltell ye. Now see here, this is the way it is. I ain't worryin' muchabout who goes to the legislature, or who's county-commissioners, nornone o' _that. Why_ ain't I worryin'? Because it's picayune. It'speanut politics. It ain't where the money is. No, sir, this campaignis on the treasurership. Taylor P. Singleton is runnin' fer treasureron the Republican ticket, and Gil. Maxim on the Democratic. But thatain't where the fight is. " Mr. Pixley spat contemptuously. "Pah!whichever of 'em gits it won't no more'n draw his salary. It's thebanks. If Singleton wins out, the Washington National gits the use ofthe county's money fer the term; if Maxim's elected, Florenheim's bankgits it. Florenheim laid down the cash fer Maxim's nomination, and theWashington National fixed it fer Singleton. And it's big money, don'tyou git no wrong idea about _that_!"

"Vote a Republican, " said Toby politely. 

A look of pain appeared upon the brow of the committee-man. 

"I reckon I ain't hardly made myself clear, " he observed, somewhatplaintively. "Now here, you listen: I reckon it would be kind of reskyto trust you boys to scratch the ticket--it's a mixed up business, anyway--"

"Vote a straight!" cried Pietro, nodding his head, cheerfully. "_Yess!_ I teach Leo; yess, teach all these"--hewaved his hands to indicate the melancholy listeners--"teach themall. Stamp in a circle by that eagle. Vote a Republican!"

"What I was goin' to say, " went on the official, exhibiting tokens ofimpatience and perturbation, "was that if we _should_ make anyswitch this year, I guess you boys would have to switch straight. "

"'Tis true!" was the hearty response. "Vote a straightRepublican. Republican eternall!"

Pixley wiped his forehead with a dirty handkerchief, and scratched hishead. "See here, " he said, after a pause, to Toby. "I've got to godown to Collins's saloon, and I'd like to have you come along. Feellike going?"

"Certumalee, " answered Toby with alacrity, reaching for his hat. 

But no one could have been more surprised than the chestnut venderwhen, on reaching the vacant street, his companion glancing cautiouslyabout, beckoned him into the darkness of an alley-way, and, noiselessly upsetting a barrel, indicated it as a seat for both. 

"Here, " said Pixley, "I reckon this is better. Jest two men bytheirselves kin fix up a thing like this a lot quicker, and I seen youdidn't want to talk too much before _them_. You make your owndeal with 'em afterwards, or none at all, jest as you like! They'll dowhatever you say, anyway. I sized you up to run _that_ bunch, first time I ever laid eyes on the outfit. Now see here, Pete, youlisten to me. I reckon I kin turn a little trick here that'll do yousome good. You kin bet I see that the men I pick fer my leaders--likeyou, Pete--git their rights! Now here: there's you and the other six, that's seven; it'll be three dollars in your pocket if you deliver thegoods. "

"No! no!" said Pietro in earnest protestation. "We seven a goodRepublican. We vote a Republican--same las' time, all a time. Eesa nota need to pay us to vote a Republican. You save that a money, MeesaPeaslay. "

"You don't understand, " groaned Pixley, with an inclination to weepover the foreigner's thick-headedness. "There's a chance fer a bigdeal here for all the boys in the precinck. Gil. Maxim's backers'llpay _big_ fer votes enough to swing it. The best of 'em don'tknow where they're at, I tell you. Now here, you see here"--he took anaffectionate grip of Pietro's collar--"I'm goin' to have a talk withMaxim's manager to-morrow, I've had one or two a'ready, and I'll putup the price all round on them people. It's no more'n right, when youcount up what we're doin' fer them. Look here, you swing them six inline and march 'em up, and all of ye stamp the rooster instead of theeagle this time, and help me to show Maxim that Frank Pixley's therewith the goods, and I'll hand you a five-dollar bill and a full box o'_ci_gars, see?"

Pietro nodded and smiled through the darkness. "Stamp that eagle!" heanswered, "Eesa all _right_, Meesa Peasley. Don't you haveafraid. We all seven a good Republican! Stamp that eagle! Hoor-r-ra!Republican _eternall_!"

Pixley was left sitting on the barrel, looking after the light figureof the young man joyously tripping back to the cellar, and turning towave a hand in farewell from the street. 

"Well, I _am_ damned!" the politician remarked, with unwittingveracity. "Did the dern Dago bluff me, does he want more, er did hereely didn't un'erstand fer honest?" Then, as he took up his way, crossing the street at the warning of some red and green smallpoxlanterns, "I'll git those seven votes, though, _someway_. I'm outfer a record this time, and I'll _git_ 'em!"

Bertha went with her fiancé to select the home that was to betheirs. They found a clean, tidy, furnished room, with a canary birdthrown in, and Toby, in the wild joy of his heart, seized hissweetheart round the waist and tried to force her to dance under theamazed eyes of the landlady. 

"You yoost behafed awful!" exclaimed the blushing waitress thatevening, with tears of laughter at the remembrance. 

She was as happy as her lover, except for two small worries that shehad: she feared that her uncle, Louie Gratz, with whom she lived, orone of her few friends, might, when they found she was to marry Toby, allude to him as a "Dago, " in which case she had an intuition that hewould slap the offender; and she was afraid of the smallpox, which hadcaused the quarantine of two shanties not far from her uncle's house. The former of her fears she did not mention, but the latter she spokeof frequently, telling Pietro how Gratz was panic-stricken, and talkedof moving, and how glad she was that Toby's "gran' palazzo" was inanother quarter of the city, as he had led her to believe. Laughingher humours almost away, he told her that the red and green lanterns, threatening murkily down the street, were for only wicked ones, likethat Meesa Peaslay, for whom she discovered, Pietro's admiration haddiminished. And when she thought of the new home--far across the cityfrom the ugly flags and lanterns--the tiny room with its engraving ofthe "Rock of Ages" and its canary, she forgot both her troublesentirely; for now, at last, the marvellous fact was assured: the fivehundred dollars was pinned into the waistcoat pocket, lying uponPietro's heart day and night, the precious lump that meant to himBertha and a home. The good Republican set election-day for thehappiest holiday of his life, for that would be his wedding-day. 

He left her at her own gate, the evening before that glorious day, andsang his way down the street, feeling that he floated on the airyuplift of his own barcarole beneath sapphire skies, for Bertha had puther arms about him at last. 

"Toby, " she said, "lieber Toby, I am so all-lofing by you--you aresitch a good maan--I am so--so--I am yoost all-_lofing_ by you!"And she cried heartily upon his shoulder. "Toby, uf you ain'd here forme to-morrow by eckseckly dwelf o'glock, uf you are von minutes late, I'm goin' yoost fall down deat! Don' you led nothings happen mit you, Toby. "

And she had whispered to him, in love with his old tender mockery ofher, to sing "Libra Ogostine" for her before he said good-night. 

Mr. Pixley, again seated upon the barrel which he had used for hisinterview with Toby, beheld the transfigured face of the young man asthe chestnut vender passed the mouth of the alley, and thecommittee-man released from his soul a burdening profanity in the earof his companion and confidant, a policeman who would be on duty inPixley's precinct on the morrow, and who had now reported forinstructions not necessarily received in a too public rendezvous. 

"After I talked to him out here on this very barrel, " said Pixley, hisanathema concluded, "I raised the bid on him; yessir, you kin skin mefer a dead skunk if I didn't offer him ten dollars and a box of_cigars_ fer the bunch; and him jest settin' there laughin' likea plumb fool and tellin' me I didn't need to worry, they'd all voteRepublican fer nothin'! Talked like a parrot: 'Vote a Republican!Republican eternal!' _Republican_! Faugh, he don't know no morewhy he's a Republican than a yeller dog'd know! I went aroundto-night, when he was out, thought mebbe I could fix it up with theothers. No, _sir_! Couldn't git nothing out of 'em except somemore parrot-cackle: 'Vote same Petro. All a good Republican!' It'senough to sicken a man!"

"Do we need his gang bad?" inquired the policeman deferentially. 

"I need everybody bad! This is a good-sized job fer me, and I want todo it right. Throwin' the precinck to Maxim is goin' to do me_some_ wrong with the Republican crowd, even if they don't git onthat it was throwed; and I want to throw it _good_! I couldn'tfeel like I'd done right if I didn't. I've give my word that they'llgit a majority of sixty-eight votes, and that'll be jest twicet asmuch in my pocket as a plain majority. And I want them seven Dagoes!I've give up on _votin_' 'em; it can't be done. It'd make a saintcuss to try to reason with 'em, and it's no good. They can't befooled, neither. They know where the polls is, and they know how tovote--blast the Australian ballot system! The most that can be done isto keep 'em away from the polls. "

"Can't you git 'em out of town in the morning?"

"D'you reckon I ain't tried that? _No_, sir! That Dago wouldn'ttake a pass to _heaven_! Everything else is all right. DocMorgan's niggers stays right here and _votes_. I _know_ themboys, and they'll walk up and stamp the rooster all right, allright. Them other niggers, that Hell-Valley gang, ain't that kind; andthem and Tooms's crowd's goin' to be took out to Smelter's ice-housesin three express wagons at four o'clock in the morning. It ain't goin'to cost over two dollars a head, whiskey and all. Then, Dan Kelly isfixed, and the Loo boys. Mike, I don't like to brag, and I ain'taround throwin' no bokays at myself as a reg'lar thing, but I want tosay right, here, there ain't another man in this city--no, nor theState neither--that could of worked his precinck better'n I havethis. I tell you, I'm within five or six votes of the majority theyset for their big money. "

"Have you give the Dagoes up altogether?"

"No, by----!" cried the committee-man harshly, bringing his dirty fistdown on the other's knee. "Did you ever hear of Frank Pixleyweakenin'? Did you ever see the man that said Frank Pixley wasn'tgame?" He rose to his feet, a ragged and sinister silhouette againstthe sputtering electric light at the alley mouth. "Didn't you everhear that Frank Pixley had a barrel of schemes to any other man'sbucket o' wind? What's Frank Pixley's repitation, lemme ast you that?I git what I go after, don't I? Now look here, you listen to me, " hesaid, lowering his voice and shaking a bent forefinger earnestly inthe policeman's face; "I'm goin' to turn the trick. And I _ought_to do it, too. That there Pete, he ain't worth the powder to blow himup--you couldn't learn him no politics if you set up with him nightafter night fer a year. Didn't I _try? Try_? I dern near bust myhead open jest thinkin' up ways to make the flathead _see_. Andhe wouldn't make no effort, jest set there and parrot out 'Vote aRepublican!' He's ongrateful, that's what he is. Well, him and themother Dagoes are goin' to stay at home fer two weeks, beginnin'to-night. "

"I'll be dogged if I see how, " said the policeman, lifting his helmetto scratch his head. 

"I'll show you how. I don't claim no credit fer the idea, I ain'taround blowin' my own horn too often, but I'd like fer somebody tojest show me any other man in this city could have thought it out! I'dlike to be showed jest one, that's all, jest one! Now, you look here;you see that nigger shanty over there, with the smallpox lanternsoutside?"

The policeman shivered slightly. "Yes. "

"Look here; they're rebuildin' the pest-house, ain't they?"

"Yes. "

"Leavin' smallpox patients in their own holes under quarantine guardtill they git a place to put 'em, ain't they?"

"Yes. "

"You know how many niggers in that shack?"

"Four, ain't they?"

"Yessir, four of 'em. One died to-night, another's goin' to, anotherain't tellin' which way he's goin' yit; and the last one, JoeCribbins, was the first to take it; and he's almost plumb as good asever ag'in. He's up and around the house, helpin' nurse the sick ones, and fit fer hard labour. Now look here; that nigger does what I_tell_ him and he does it quick--see? Well, he knows what I wanthim to do to-night. So does Charley Gruder, the guard overthere. Charley's fixed; I seen to that; and he knows he ain't goin' tolose no job fer the nigger's gittin' out of the back winder to go makea little sociable call this evening. "

"What!" exclaimed the policeman, startled; "Charley ain't goin' to letthat nigger out!"

"Ain't he? Oh, you needn't worry, he ain't goin' _fur_! All he'swaiting fer is fer you to give the signal. "

"Me!" The man in the helmet drew back. 

"Yessir, you! You walk out there and lounge up towards the drug-storeand jest look over to Charley and nod twice. Then you stand on thecorner and watch and see what you see. When you _see_ it, youyell fer Charley and git into the drug store telephone, and call upthe health office and git their men up here and into that Dago cellarlike hell! The nigger'll be there. They don't know him, and he'll justdrop in to try and sell the Dagoes some policy tickets. You understand_me_?"

"Mother Mary in heaven!" The policeman sprang up. "What are you goingto do?"

"What am I going to do?" shrilled the other, the light of a monstrouspride in his little eyes. "I'm goin' to quarantine them Dagoes ferfourteen days. They'll learn some politics before I git through with'em. Maybe they'll know enough United States language to foller theirleader next time!"

"By all that's mighty, Pixley, " said the policeman, with an admirationthat was almost reverence, "you _are_ a schemer!"

"Mein Gott!" screeched Bertha's uncle, snapping his teeth fiercely onhis pipe-stem, as he flung open the door of the girl's room. "You wantto disgraze me mit der whole neighbourhoot, 'lection night? Quid ut!Stob ut! Beoples in der streed stant owidside und litzen to dodgrying. You _voult_ goin' to marry mit a Dago mens, voult you!Ha, ha! Soife you right! He run away!" The old man laughed unamiably. "Ha, ha! Dago mens foolt dod smard Bertha. Dod's pooty tough. But, bei Gott, you stop dod noise und ect lige a detzent voomans, or yougoin' haf droubles mit your uncle Louie Gratz!"

But Bertha, an undistinguishable heap on the floor of the unlit room, only gasped brokenly for breath and wept on. 

"Ach, ach, ach, lieber Gott in Himmel!" sobbed Bertha. "Why didn'tToby come for me? Ach, ach! What iss happened mit Toby? Somedings isshappened--I _know_ ut!"

"Ya, ya!" jibed Gratz; "somedings iss heppened, I bet you! Brop'lyhe's got anoder vife, dod's vot heppened! Brop'ly _leffing_ adyou mit anoder voomans! Vot for dit he nefer tolt you vere he lif? Soyou voultn't ketch him; dod's der reason! You're a pooty vun, _you_ are! Runnin' efter a doity Dago mens! Bei Gott! you beddergit oop und back your glo'es, und stob dod gryin'. I'm goin' to mofeowid to-morrow; und you kin go verefer you blease. I ain'd goin' tosday anoder day in sitch a neighbourhoot. Fife more smallpox lanternsyoost oop der streed. I'm goin' mofe glean to der oder ent of dercity. Und you can come by me or you can run efter your Dago mens undhis voomans! Dod's why he dittn't come to marry you, you grazy--ut's avoomans!"

"No, _no_, " screamed Bertha, stopping her ears with herforefingers. "Lies, lies, lies!"

A slatternly negro woman dawdled down the street the followingafternoon, and, encountering a friend of like description near thecottage which had been tenanted by Louie Gratz and his niece, pausedfor conversation. 

"Howdy, honey, " she began, leaning restfully against thegate-post. "How's you ma?"

"She right spry, " returned the friend. "How you'self an' you goodhusban', Miz Mo'ton?"

Mrs. Morton laughed cheerily. "Oh, he enjoyin' de 'leckshum. He 'uz onde picnic yas'day, to Smeltuh's ice-houses; an' 'count er Mist'Maxim's gittin' 'lected, dey gi'n him bottle er whiskey an' twodollahs. He up at de house now, entuhtainin' some ge'lemenfrien'swi'de bones, honey. "

"Um hum. " The other lady sighed reflectively. "I on'y wisht my po'husban' could er live to enjoy de fruits er politics. "

"Yas'm, " returned Mrs. Morton. "You right. It are a great intrus' ina man's life. Dat what de ornator say in de speech f'm de back er degroce'y wagon, yas'm, a great intrus' in a man's life. Decla'h, Ib'lieve Goe'ge think mo' er politics dan he do er me! Well ma'am, " sheconcluded, glancing idly up and down the street and leaning back morecomfortably against the gatepost, "I mus' be goin' on my urrant. "

"What urrant's dat?" inquired the widow. 

"Mighty quare urrant, " replied Mrs. Morton. "Mighty quare urrant, honey. You see back yon'eh dat new smallpox flag?"

"Sho. "

"Well ma'am, night fo' las', dat Joe Cribbins, dat one-eye nigger whatsell de policy tickets, an's done be'n havin' de smallpox, he cropeout de back way, when's de gyahd weren't lookin', an', my Lawd, ef deyain't ketch him down in dat Dago cellar, tryin' sell dem Dagoes policytickets! Yahah, honey!" Mrs. Morton threw back her head tolaugh. "Ain't dat de beatenest nigger, dat one-eyed Joe?"

"What den, Miz Mo'ton?" pursued the listener. 

"Den dey quahumteem dem Dagoes; sot a gyahd dah: you kin see himsettin' out dah now. Well ma'am, 'cordin' to dat gyahd, one er demDagoes like ter go inter fits all day yas'day. Dat man hatter go inan' quiet him down ev'y few minute'. Seem 't he boun' sen' a messagean' cain't git no one to ca'y it fer him. De gyahd, he cain't go; hewillin' sen' de message, but cain't git nobody come nigh enough deplace fer to tell 'em what it is. 'Sides, it 'leckshum-day, an' mos'folks hangin' 'roun' de polls. Well ma'am, dis aft'noon, I so'nter'nby, an' de gyahd holler out an' ask me do I want make a dollah, an' Isay I do. I ain't 'fraid no smallpox, done had it two year' ago. So Isay I take de message. "

"What is it?"

"Law, honey, it ain't wrote. Dem Dago folks hain't got no writin' nerreadin'. Dey mo' er less like de beasts er de fiel'. Dat message byword er mouf. I goin' tell nuffin 'bout de quahumteem. I'm gottersay: 'Toby sen' word to liebuh Augustine dat she needn' worry. He li'lsick, not much, but de doctah ain' 'low him out fer two weeks; an''mejutly at de en' er dat time he come an' git her an' den kin go onhome wheres de canary bu'd is. ' Honey, you evah hyuh o' sich afoolishness? But de gyahd, he say de message gotter be ca'yied dassdataways. "

"Lan' name!" ejaculated the widow. "Who dat message to?"

"Hit to a Dutch gal. "

"My Lawd!" The widow lifted amazed hands to heaven. "De impidence erdem Dagoes! _Little_ mo' an' dey'll be sen'in' messages to youer me!--What her name?"

"Name Bertha Grass, " responded Mrs. Morton, "an', nigh as I kin makeout, she live in one er dese little w'ite-paint cottages, right 'longyere. "

"Yas'm! I knows dat Dutch gal, ole man Grass, de tailor, dass hisniece. W'y, dey done move out dis mawn, right f'um dis ve'y house youstan'in in front de gate of. De ole man skeered er de smallpox, an' hemad, too, an' de neighbuhs ask him whuh he gwine, he won't tell; somad he won't speak to nobody. None on 'em 'round hyuh knows an' dey'sconsidabul cyu'us 'bout it, too. Dey gone off in bofe d'rections--himone way, her 'nother. 'Peah lak dey be'n quollun!"

"Now look at dat!" cried Mrs. Morton dolefully. "Look at dat! Ain'tdat de doggonest luck in de wide worl'! De gyahd he say dat Dagowillin' pay fifty cents a day fo' me to teck an' bring a message eve'ymawn' tell de quahumteem took off de cellar. Now dat Dutch gal gonean' loss dat money fo' me--movin' 'way whuh nobody cain't fine 'er!"

"Sho!" laughed the widow. "Ef I'se in you place, Miz Mo'ton, an' you'sin mine, dat money sho'lly, sho'lly nevah would be los', indeed hitwouldn't. I dass go in t' de do' an' tu'n right 'roun' back ag'in an'go down to dat gyahd an' say de Dutch gal 'ceive de message wid debes' er 'bligin' politeness an' sent her kine regyahds to de Dago manan' all inquirin' frien's, an' hope de Dago man soon come an' git'er. To-morrer de same, nex' day de same--"

"Lawd, ef dat ain't de beatenest!" cried Mrs. Mortondelightedly. "Well, honey, I thank you long as I live, 'cause Inevah'd a wuk dat out by myself an de livin' worl', an' I sho doesneeds de money. I'm goin' do exackly dass de way you say. Dat man heain' goin' know no diffunce till he git out--an' den, honey, " she letloose upon the quiet air a sudden, great salvo of laughter, "dass lethim fine Lize Mo'ton!"

Bertha went to live in the tiny room with the canary bird and theengraving of the "Rock of Ages. " This was putting lime to the canker, but, somehow, she felt that she could go to no other place. She toldthe landlady that her young man had not done so well in business asthey had expected, and had sought work in another city. He would comeback, she said. 

She woke from troubled dreams each morning to stifle her sobbing inthe pillow. "Ach, Toby, coultn't you sented me yoost one word, you_might_ sented me yoost one word, yoost one, to tell me what hashappened mit you! Ach, Toby, Toby!"

The canary sang happily; she loved it and tended it, and the gaylittle prisoner tried to reward her by the most marvellous trilling inhis power, but her heart was the sorer for every song. 

After a time she went back drearily to the kraut-smelling restaurant, to the work she had thought to leave forever, that day when Toby hadnot come for her. She went out twenty times every morning, and ofteneras it wore on towards evening, to look at his closed stand, alwayswith a choking hope in her heart, always to drag leaden feet back intothe restaurant. Several times, her breath failing for shame, sheapproached Italians in the street, or where there was one to be foundat a stand of any sort she stopped and made a purchase, and asked forsome word of Toby--without result, always. She knew no other way toseek for him. 

One day, as she trudged homeward, two coloured women met on thepavement in front of her, exchanged greetings, and continued for alittle way together. 

"How you enjoyin' you' money, dese fine days, Miz Mo'ton?" inquiredone, with a laugh that attested to the richness of the joke betweenthe two. 

"Law, honey, " answered the other, "dat good luck di'n' las' ve'ylong. Dey done shut off my supplies. "

"No!"

"Yas'm, dey sho did. Dat man done tuck de smallpox; all on 'em ketchedit, ev'y las' one, off'n dat no 'count Joe Cribbins, an' now dat deygot de new pes'-house finish', dey haul 'em off yon'eh, yas'day. Reckon dat ain' make no diffunce in my urrant runnin'. Dat Dago man, he outer he hade two day fo' dey haul 'em away, an' ain' sen' no mo'messages. So dat spile _my_ job! Hit dass my luck. Dey's sho' avoodoo on Lize Mo'ton!"

Bertha, catching but fragments of this conversation, had norealization that it bore in any way upon the mystery of Toby; and shestumbled homeward through the twilight with her tired eyes on theground. 

When she opened the door of the tiny room, the landlady's lean blackcat ran out surreptitiously. The bird-cage lay on the floor, upsidedown, and of its jovial little inhabitant the tokens were a few yellowfeathers. 

Bertha did not know until a month after, when Leo Vesschi found her atthe restaurant and told her, that out in the new pest-house, thatother songster and prisoner, the gay little chestnut vender, PietroTobigli, had called lamentably upon the name of his God and upon"Libra Ogostine, " and now lay still forever, with the corduroywaistcoat and its precious burden tightly clenched to his breast. Evenin his delirium they had been unable to coax or force him to part fromit for a second. 

THE NEED OF MONEY

Far back in his corner on the Democratic side of the House, UncleBilly Rollinson sat through the dragging routine of the legislativesession, wondering what most of it meant. When anybody spoke to him, in passing, he would answer, in his gentle, timid voice, "Howdy-do, sir. " Then his cheeks would grow a little red and he would stroke hislong, white beard elaborately, to cover his embarrassment. When a votewas taken, his name was called toward the last of the roll, so that hehad ample time, after the leader of his side of the House, youngHurlbut, had voted, to clear his throat several times and say "Aye" or"No" in quite a firm voice. But the instant the word had left his lipshe found himself terribly frightened, and stroked his beard a greatmany times, the while he stared seriously up at the ceiling, partly toavoid meeting anybody's eye, and partly in the belief that itconcealed his agitation and gave him the air of knowing what he wasabout. Usually he did not know, any more than he knew how he hadhappened to be sent to the legislature by his county. But he likedit. He liked the feeling of being a person to be considered; he likedto think that he was making the laws of his State. He liked thehandsome desk and the easy leather chair; he liked the row of fat, expensive volumes, the unlimited stationery, and the free penkniveswhich were furnished him. He enjoyed the attentions of the colouredmen in the cloakroom, who brushed him ostentatiously and always calledhim (and the other Representatives) "Senator, " to make up tothemselves for the airs which the janitors of the "Upper House"assumed. Most of these things surprised him; he had not expected tobe treated with such liberality by the State and never realized thathe and his colleagues were treating themselves to all these things atthe expense of the people, and so, although he bore off as muchnote-paper as he could carry, now and then, to send to his son, Henry, he was horrified and dumbfounded when the bill was proposedappropriating $135, 000 for the expenses of the seventy days' sessionof the legislature. 

He was surprised to find that among his "perquisites" were passes(good during the session) on all the railroads that entered the State, and others for use on many inter-urban trolley lines. These, hethought, might be gratifying to Henry, who was fond of travel, and hadoften been unhappy when his father failed to scrape up enough money tosend him to a circus in the next county. It was "very accommodatingof the railroads, " Uncle Billy thought, to maintain this pleasantcustom, because the members' travelling expenses were paid by theState just the same; hence the economical could "draw their mileage"at the Treasurer's office, and add it to their salaries. Heheard--only vaguely understanding--many joking references to otherways of adding to salaries. 

Most of the members of his party had taken rooms at one of the hotels, whither those who had sought cheaper apartments repaired in theevening, when the place became a noisy and crowded club, admission towhich was not by card. Most of the rougher man-to-man lobbying wasdone here; and at times it was Babel. 

Through the crowds Uncle Billy wandered shyly, stroking his beard andsaying, "Howdy-do, sir, " in his gentle voice, getting out of the wayof people who hurried, and in great trouble of mind if any one askedhim how he intended to vote upon a bill. When this happened he lookedat the interrogator in the plaintive way which was his habit, andanswered slowly: "I reckon I'll have to think it over. " He was not inHurlbut's councils. 

There was much bustle all about him, but he was not part of it. Thenewspaper reporters remarked the quiet, inoffensive old figurepottering about aimlessly on the outskirts of the crowd, and thoughtUncle Billy as lonely as a man might well be, for he seemed less apart of the political arrangement than any member they had ever seen. He would have looked less lonely and more in place trudging alonethrough the furrows of his home fields in a wintry twilight. 

And yet, everybody liked the old man, Hurlbut in particular, if UncleBilly had known it; for Hurlbut watched the votes very closely and wasoften struck by the soundness of Representative Rollinson'sintelligence in voting. 

In return, Uncle Billy liked Hurlbut better than any other man he hadever known--except Henry, of course. On the first day of the session, when the young leader had been pointed out to him, Uncle Billy'shumble soul was prostrate with admiration, and when Hurlbut led thefirst attack on the monopolistic tendencies of the Republican party, Representative Rollinson, chuckling in his beard at the handsomeyouth's audacity, himself dared so greatly as to clap his handsaloud. Hurlbut, on the floor, was always a storm centre: tall, dramatic, bold, the members put down their newspapers whenever hisstrong voice was heard demanding recognition, and his "Mr. Speaker!"was like the first rumble of thunder. The tempest nearly alwaysfollowed, and there were times when it threatened to become more thanvocal; when, all order lost, nine-tenths of the men on the other sideof the House were on their feet shouting jeers and denunciations, andthe orator faced them, out-thundering them all, with his own cohorts, flushed and cheering, gathered round him. Then, indeed, Uncle Billywould have thought him a god, if he had known what a god was. 

Sometimes Uncle Billy saw him in the hotel lobby, but he seemed alwaysto be making for the elevator in a hurry, with half-a-dozen peopletrying to detain him, or descending momentarily from the stairway fora quick, sharp talk with one or two members, their heads closetogether, after which Hurlbut would dart upward again. 

Sometimes the old man sat down at one of the writing tables, in acorner of the lobby, and, annexing a sheet of the hotel note-paper, "wrote home" to Henry. He sat with his head bent far over, the broadbrim of his felt hat now and then touching the hand with which he keptthe paper from sliding; and he pressed diligently upon his pen, usually breaking it before the letter was finished. He looked so likea man intent upon concealment that the reporters were wont to say:"There's Uncle Billy humped up over his guilty secret again. "

The secret usually took this form:

"Dear Son Henry:

"I would be glad if you was here. There is big doings. Hurlbut giveit to them to-day. He don't give the Republicans no rest, he lightsinto them like sixty you would like to see him. They are plenty nicefellows in the Republicans too but they lay mighty low when Hurlbutgets after them. He was just in the office but went out. He always hasa segar in his mouth but not lit. I expect hes quit. I send youenclosed last week's salary all but $11. 80 which I had to use asliving is pretty high in our capital city of the state. If you wouldlike some of this hotel writing paper better than the kind I sent youof the General Assembly I can send you some the boys say it is free. Ithink it is all right you sold the calf but Wilkes didn't give yougood price. Hurlbut come in while I was writing then. You bet he canalways count on Wm. Rollinson's vote. 

"Well I must draw to a dose, Yours truly

"Your father. "

"Wm. Rollinson" was not aware that he was known to his colleagues andthe lobby and the Press as "Uncle Billy" until informed thereof by apublic print. He stood, one night, on the edge of a laughing group, when a reporter turned to him and said:

"The _Constellation_ would like to know RepresentativeRollinson's opinion of the scandalous story that has just been told. "

The old man, who had not in the least understood the story, summonedall his faculties, and, after long deliberation, bent his plaintiveeyes upon the youth and replied:

"Well, sir, it's a-stonishing, a-stonishing!"

"Think it's pretty bad, do you?"

Some of the crowd turned to listen, and the old fellow, hopelesslypuzzled, stroked his beard with a trembling hand, and then, muttering, "Well, young man, I expect you better excuse me, " hurried away andleft the place. The next morning he found the following item tacked tothe tail of the "Legislative Gossip" column of the _Constellation_:

"UNCLE BILLY ROLLINSON HORRIFIED

"Yesterday a curious and amusing story was current among the solons atthe Nagmore Hotel. It seems that the wife of a country member of thelast legislature had been spending the day at the hotel and the wifeof a present member from the country complained to her of the greatlyincreased expenditure appertaining to the cost of living in theCapital City. 'Indeed, ' replied the wife of the former member, 'thatis curious. But I suppose my husband is much more economical thanyours, for he brought home $1. 500, that he'd saved out of his salary. 'As the salary is only $456, and the gentleman in question did not playpoker, much hilarity was indulged in, and there were conjectures thatthe economy referred to concerned his vote upon a certain bill beforethe last session, anent which the lobby pushing it were far fromeconomical. Uncle Billy Rollinson, the Gentleman from Wixinockee, heard the story, as it passed from mouth to mouth, but he had nolaughter to greet it. Uncle Billy, as every one who comes in contactwith him knows, is as honest as the day is long, and the story grievedand shocked him. He expressed the utmost horror and consternation, andrequested to be excused from speaking further upon a subject sorepugnant to his feelings. If there were more men of this stamp inpolitics, who find corruption revolting instead of amusing, ourlegislatures would enjoy a better fame. "

Uncle Billy had always been agitated by the sight of his name inprint. Even in the Wixinockee County _Clarion_, it dumbfoundedhim and gave him a strange feeling that it must mean somebody else, but this sudden blaze of metropolitan fame made him almost giddy. Hefolded the paper quickly and placed it under his coat, feeling vaguelythat it would not do to be seen reading it. He murmured feeble answersduring the day, when some of his colleagues referred to it; but whenhe reached his own little room that evening, he spread it out underhis oil-smelling lamp and read it again. Perhaps he read it twentytimes over before the supper bell rang. Perhaps the fact that he wasstill intent upon it accounted for his not hearing the bell, so thathis landlady had to call him. 

What he liked was the phrase: "Honest as the day is long. " He did notgo to the hotel that night. He went back to his room and read the_Constellation_. He liked the _Constellation_. Newspaperswere very kind, he thought. Now and then, he would pick up his pile oflegislative bills and try to spell through the ponderous sentences, but he always gave it up and went back to the _Constellation_. Hewondered if Hurlbut had read it. Hurlbut had. The leader had eventold the author of the item that he was glad somebody could appreciatethe kind of a man Uncle Billy was, and his value to the body politic. 

"Honest as the day is long, " Uncle Billy repeated to himself, in thelittle room, nodding his head gravely. Then he thought for a longwhile about the member who had, according to the story, gone home with$1, 500. He sat up, that evening, until almost ten o'clock. Even afterhe had gone to bed, he lay awake with his eyes wide open in thedarkness, thinking of the colossal sum. If anybody should come to_him_ and offer him all that money to vote a certain way upon abill, he believed he would not take it, for that would be bribery;though Henry would be glad to have the money. Henry always neededmoney; sometimes the need was imperative--once, indeed, so imperativethat the small, unfertile farm had been mortgaged beyond its value, otherwise very serious things must have happened to Henry. Uncle Billywondered how offers of money to members were refused without hurtingthe intending donor's feelings. And what a great deal could be donewith $1, 500, if a member could get it and still be as honest as theday is long!

About the second month of the session the floor of the House begansteadily to grow more and more tumultuous. To an unpolitical onlooker, leaning over the gallery rail, it was often an incomprehensibleBedlam, or perhaps one might have been reminded of an ant-heap by thehurry-and-scurry and life-and-death haste in a hundred directions atonce, quite without any distinguishable purpose. Twenty men might berampaging up and down the aisles, all shouting, some of themfuriously, others with a determination that was deadly, all with armswaving at the Speaker, some of the hands clenched, some of themfluttering documents, while pages ran everywhere in mad haste, stumbling and falling in the aisles. In the midst of this, othermembers, seated, wrote studiously; others mildly read newspapers;others lounged, half-standing against their desks, unlighted cigars intheir mouths, laughing; all the while the patient Speaker tapped withhis gavel on a small square of marble. Suddenly perfect calm wouldcome and the voice of the reading clerk drone for half an hour ormore, like a single bee in a country garden on Sunday morning. 

Of all this Uncle Billy was as much a layman spectator as any trampwho crept into the gallery for a few hours out of the cold. The hurryand seethe of the racing sea touched him not at all, except tobewilderment, while he was carried with it, unknowing, toward thebreakers. The shout of those breakers was already in the ears of many, for the crisis of the session was coming. This was the fight that wasto be made on Hurlbut's "Railroad Bill, " which was, indeed, but inanother sense, known as the "Breaker. "

Uncle Billy had heard of the "Breaker. " He couldn't have helpedthat. He had heard a dozen say: "Then's when it's going to be warmtimes, when that 'Breaker' comes up!" or, "Look out for that'Breaker. ' We're going to have big trouble. " He knew, too, thatHurlbut was interested in the "Breaker, " but upon which side he wasfor a long time ignorant. 

 * * * * *

Hurlbut always nodded to the old man, now, as he came down the aisleto his own desk. He had begun that, the day after the _Constellation_item. Uncle Billy never failed to be in his seat early in themorning, waiting for the nod. He answered it with his usual "Howdy-do, sir, " then stroked his beard and gazed profoundly at the row of fatvolumes in front of him, swallowing painfully once or twice. 

This was all that really happened for Uncle Billy during the turmoiland scramble that went on about him all the day long. He had not beenforced to discover a way to meet an offer of $1, 500, without hurtingthe putative giver's feelings. No lobbyist had the faintest idea of"approaching" the old man in that way. The members and the hordes ofcamp-followers and all the lobby had settled into a belief thatRepresentative Rollinson was a sea-green Incorruptible, that of allhonest members he was the most honest. He had become typical ofhonesty: sayings were current--"You might as well try to bribe UncleBilly Rollinson!" "As honest as old Uncle Billy Rollinson. " Hurlbutoften used such phrases in private. 

The "Breaker" was Hurlbut's own bill; he had planned it and writtenit, though it came over to the House from the Senate under a Senator'sname. It was one of those "anti-monopolistic" measures which Democratsput their whole hearts into, sometimes, and believe in and fight formagnificently; an idea conceived in honesty and for a beneficentpurpose, in the belief that a legislature by the wave of a hand canconjure the millennium to appear; and born out of an uttermisconception of man and railroads. The bill needs no fartherdescription than this: if it passed and became an enforced law, thedividends of every rail road entering the State would be reduced bytwo-fifths. There is one thing that will fight harder than aDemocrat--that is a railroad. 

The "Breaker" had been kept very dark until Hurlbut felt that he wasready; then it was swept through the Senate before the railroad lobby, previously lulled into unsuspicion, could collect itself and blockit. This was as Hurlbut had planned: that the fight should be in hisown House. It was the bill of his heart and he set his reputation uponit. He needed fifty-one votes to pass it, and he had them, and one tospare; for he took his followers, who formed the majority, into caucusupon it. It was in the caucus Uncle Billy learned that Hurlbut was"for" the bill. He watched the leader with humble, wavering eyes, thinking how strong and clear his voice was, and wondering if he neverlit the cigar he always carried in his hand, or if he ever got intotrouble, like Henry, being a young man. If he did, Uncle Billy wouldhave liked the chance to help him out. 

He had plenty of such chances with Henry; indeed, the opportunity maybe said to have become unintermittent, and Uncle Billy was never freefrom a dim fear of the day when his son would get in so deeply that hecould not get him out. Verily, the day seemed near at hand: Henry'sletters were growing desperate and the old man walked the floor of hislittle room at night, more and more hopeless. Once or twice, even ashe sat at his desk in the House, his eyes became so watery that heforced himself into long spells of coughing, to account for it, incase any one might be noticing him. 

The caucus was uneventful and quiet, for it had all been talked over, and was no more than a matter of form. 

The Republicans did not caucus upon the bill (they had reasons), butthey were solidly against it. Naturally it follows that the assault ofthe railroad lobby had to be made upon the virtue of the Democrats_as_ Democrats. That is, whether a member upon the majority sidecared about the bill for its own sake of not, right or wrong, he feltit his duty as a Democrat to vote for it. If he had a consciencehigher than a political conscience, and believed the bill was bad, hisduty was to "bolt the caucus"; but all of the Democratic side believedin the righteousness of the bill, except two. One had already beenbought and the other was Uncle Billy, who knew nothing about it, except that Hurlbut was "for" it and it seemed to be making a "bigstir. "

The man who had been bought sat not far from Uncle Billy. He was afurtive, untidy slouch of a man, formerly a Republican; he had a greatcapacity for "handling the coloured vote" and his name wasPixley. Hurlbut mistrusted him; the young man had that instinct, whichgood leaders need, for feeling the weak places in his following; andhe had the leader's way, too, of ever bracing up the weakness andfortifying it; so he stopped, four or five times a day, at Pixley'sdesk, urging the necessity of standing fast for the "Breaker, " andexpressing convictions as to the political future of a Democrat whoshould fail to vote for it; to which Pixley assented in his husky, tough-ward voice. 

All day long now, Hurlbut and his lieutenants, disregarding theroutine of bills, went up and down the lines, fending off thelobbyists and such Republicans as were working openly for the bill. They encouraged and threatened and never let themselves be tooconfident of their seeming strength. Some of those who were known, orguessed, to be of the "weaker brethren" were not left to themselvesfor half an hour at a time, from their breakfasts until they went tobed. There was always at elbow the "_Hold fast_!" whisper ofHurlbut and his lieutenants. None of them ever thought of speaking toUncle Billy. 

Hurlbut's "work was cut out for him, " as they said. What work it is tokeep every one of fifty men honest under great temptation for threeweeks (which time it took for the hampered and filibustered bill tocome up for its passage or defeat), is known to those who have triedto do it. The railroads were outraged and incensed by the measure;they sincerely believed it to be monstrous and thievish. "Let thelegislature try to confiscate two-fifths of the lawyers', or thebakers', or the ironmoulders', just earnings, " said they, "and seewhat will happen!"

When such a bill as this comes to the floor for the third time thefight is already over, oratory is futile; and Cicero could not budge avote. The railroads were forced to fight as best they could; this wasthe old way that they have learned is most effective in such acase. Votes could not be had to "oblige a friend" on the "Breaker"bill; nor could they be procured by arguments to prove the billunjust. In brief: the railroad lobby had no need to buy Republicanvotes (with the exception of the one or two who charged out of habitwhenever legislation concerned corporations), for the Republicans wereagainst the bill, but they did mortally need to buy two Democraticvotes, and were willing to pay handsomely for them. Nevertheless, Mr. Pixley's price was not exorbitant, considering the situation; norneed he have congratulated himself so heartily as he did (in momentsof retirement from public life) upon his prospective $2, 000 (when thegoods should be delivered) since his vote was assisting the railroadsto save many million dollars a year. 

Of course the lobby attacked the bill noisily; there were big gunsgoing all day long; but those in charge knew perfectly well that thenoise accomplished nothing in itself. It was used to cover thewhispering. Still, Hurlbut held his line firm and the bill passed itssecond reading with fifty-two votes, Mr. Pixley being directed by hisowners to vote for it on that occasion. 

As time went on the lobby began to grow desperate; even Pixley hadbeen consulted upon his opinion by Barrett, the young lawyer throughwhom negotiations in his case had been conducted. Pixley suggestedthe name of Rollinson and Barrett dismissed this counsel with as muchdisgust for Pixley's stupidity as he had for the man's person. (Onelikes a _dog_ when he buys him. )

"But why not?" Pixley had whined as he reached the door. "Uncle Billyain't so much! You listen to me. He wouldn't take it out-an'-out--Idon't say as he would. But you needn't work that way. Everybody thinksit's no use to tackle him--but nobody never _tried_! What's he_done_ to make you scared of him? _Nothing_! Jest set thereand _looked_!"

After he had gone the fellow's words came back to Barrett: "Nobodynever tried!" And then, to satisfy his conscience that he was leavingno stone unturned, yet laughing at the uselessness of it, he wrote aletter to a confidant of his, formerly a colleague in the lobby, wholived in the county-seat near which Uncle Billy's mortgaged acreslay. The answer came the night after the second vote on the "Breaker. "

"Dear Barrett:

"I agree with your grafter. I don't believe Rollinson would be hard toapproach if it were done with tact--of course you don't want to tacklehim the way you would a swine like Pixley. A good many people aroundhere always thought the old man simple-minded. He was given thenomination almost in joke--nobody else wanted it, because they allthought the Republicans had a sure thing of it; but Rollinson slid inon the general Democratic landslide in this district. He's got oneson, a worthless pup, Henry, a sort of yokel Don Juan, always halfdrunk when his father has any money to give him, and just smart enoughto keep the old man mesmerized. Lately Henry's been in a mightyserious peck of trouble. Last fall he got married to a girl here intown. Three weeks ago a family named Johnson, the most shiftless inthe county, the real low-down white trash sort, living on a truckpatch out Rollinson's way, heard that Henry was on a toot in town, spending money freely, and they went after him. A client of mine rentstheir ground to them and told me all about it. It seems they claimthat one of the daughters in the Johnson family was Henry's common-lawwife before he married the other girl, and it's more than likely theycan prove it. They are hollering for $600, and if Henry doesn't raiseit mighty quick they swear they'll get him sent over the road forbigamy. I think the old man would sell his soul to keep his boy out ofthe penitentiary and he's at his wits' ends; he hasn't anything toraise the money on and he's up against it. He'll do any thing on earthfor Henry. Hope this'll be of some service to you, and if there'sanything more I can do about it you better call me up on the longdistance. 

"Yours faithfully, "J. P. WATSON. 

"P. S. --You might mention to our old boss that I don't want anything ifservices are needed; but a pass for self and family to New York andreturn would come in handy. "

Barrett telegraphed an answer at once: "If it goes you can have annualfor yourself and family. Will call you up at two sharp to-morrow. "

 * * * * *

It was late the following night when the lobbyist concluded hisinterview with Representative Rollinson, in the latter's little room, half lighted by the oil-smelling lamp. 

"I knew you would understand, Mr. Rollinson, " said Barrett as he roseto go. His eyes danced and his jaws set with the thought that had beenjubilant within him for the last half-hour: "We've got 'em! We've got'em! We've got 'em!" The railroads had defended their own again. 

"Of course, " he went on, "we wouldn't have dreamed of coming to youand asking you to vote against this outrageous bill if we thought fora minute that you had any real belief in it or considered it a goodbill. But you say, yourself, your only feeling about it was to obligeMr. Hurlbut, and you admit, too, that you've voted his way on everyother bill of the session. Surely, as I've already said so many times, you don't think he'd be so unreasonable as to be angry with you fordiffering with him on the merits of only one! No, no, Hurlbut's a verysensible fellow about such matters. You don't need to worry about_that_! After all I've said, surely you won't give it anotherthought, will you?"

Uncle Billy sat in the shadow, bent far over, slowly twisting histhin, corded hands, the fingers tightly interlocked. It was a longtime before he spoke, and his interlocutor had to urge him againbefore he answered, in his gentle, quavering voice. 

"No, I reckon not, if you say so. "

"Certainly not, " said Barrett briskly. "Why of course, we'd never havethought of making you a money offer to vote either for or against yourprinciples. Not much! We don't do business that way! We simply want todo something for you. We've wanted to, all during the session, but theopportunity hadn't offered until I happened to hear your son was introuble. "

Out of the shadow came a long, tremulous sigh. There was a moment'spause; then Uncle Billy's head sank slowly lower and rested on hishands. 

"You see, " the other continued cheerfully, "we make no conditions, none in the world. We feel friendly to you and want to oblige you, butof course we do think you ought to show a little good-will towards_us_. I believe it's all understood: to-morrow night Mr. Watsonwill drive out in his buggy to this Johnson place, and he's empoweredby us to settle the whole business and obtain a written statement fromthe family that they have no claim on your son. How he will settle itis neither your affair nor mine; nor whether it costs money ornot. But he _will_ settle it. We do that out of good-will to you, as long as we feel as friendly to you as we do now, and all we ask isthat you show your good-will to us. "

It was plain, even to Uncle Billy, that if he voted againstMr. Barrett's friends in the afternoon those friends might not feel somuch good-will toward him in the evening as they did now: andMr. Watson might not go to the trouble of hitching up his buggy todrive out to the Johnsons'. 

"You see, it's all out of friendship, " said Barrett, his hand on thedoor knob. "And we can count on your's to-morrow, can'twe--absolutely?"

The grey head sank a little lower, and then after a moment thequavering voice answered:

"Yes, sir--I'll be friendly. "

Before morning, Hurlbut lost another vote. One of his best men lefton a night train for the bedside of his dying wife. This meant thatthe "Breaker" needed every one of the fifty-one remaining Democraticvotes in order to pass. Hurlbut more than distrusted Pixley, yet hefelt sure of the other fifty, and if, upon the reading of the bill, Pixley proved false, the bill would not be lost, since there would bea majority of votes in its favour, though not the constitutionalmajority of fifty-one required for its passage, and it could bebrought up again and carried when the absent man returned. Thus, onthe chance that Pixley had withstood tampering, Hurlbut made no effortto prevent the bill from coming to the floor in its regular order inthe afternoon, feeling that it could not possibly be killed by amajority against it, for he trusted his fifty, now, as strongly as hedistrusted Pixley. 

And so the roll-call on the "Breaker" began, rather quietly, thoughthere was no man's face in the hall that was not set to show thetensity of high-strung nerves. The great crowd that had gathered andchoked the galleries and the floor beyond the bar, and the Senatorswho had left their own chamber to watch the bill in the House, allbegan to feel disappointed; for nothing happened until Pixley's namewas called. 

Pixley voted "No!"

Uncle Billy, sitting far down in his leather chair on the small of hisback, heard the outburst of shouting that followed; but he could notsee Pixley, for the traitor was instantly surrounded by a ring of men, and all that was visible from where he sat was their backs andupraised, gesticulating hands. Uncle Billy began to tremble violently;he had not calculated on this; but surely such things would not happento _him_!

The Speaker's gavel clicked through the uproar and the roll-callproceeded. 

The clerk reached the name of Rollinson. Uncle Billy swallowed, threwa pale look about him and wrapped his damp hands in the skirts of hisshiny old coat, as if to warm them. For a moment he could notanswer. People turned to look at him. 

"Rollinson!" shouted the clerk again. 

"No, " said Uncle Billy. 

Immediately he saw above him and all about him a blur of men's facesand figures risen to their feet, he heard a hundred voices saybreathlessly: "_What_!" and one that said: "My God, that killsthe bill!"

Then a horrible and incredible storm burst upon him, and he who hadsat all the session shrinking unnoticed in his quiet, back seat, unnerved when a colleague asked the simplest question, found himselfthe centre and point of attack in the wildest mêlée that legislatureever saw. A dozen men, red, frantic, with upraised arms, came at him, Hurlbut the first of them. But the lobby was there, too; for it wasnot part of its calculations that the old man should be frightenedinto changing his vote. 

There need have been no fear of that. Uncle Billy was beyond the powerof speech. The lobby's agents swarmed on the floor, and, withhalf-a-dozen hysterically laughing Republicans, met the onset ofHurlbut and his men. It became a riot immediately. Sane men were sweptup in it to be as mad as the rest, while the galleries screamed andshouted. All round the old man the fury was greatest; his head sankover his desk and rested on his hands as it had the night before; forhe dared not lift it to see the avalanche he had loosed uponhimself. He would have liked to stop his ears to shut out theegregious clamour of cursing and yelling that beset him, as his benthead kept the glazed eyes from seeing the impossible vision of theattack that strove to reach him. He remembered awful dreams that werelike this; and now, as then, he shuddered in a cold sweat, being asone who would draw the covers over his head to shelter him fromhorrors in great darkness. As Uncle Billy felt, so might a naked soulfeel at the judgment day, tossed alone into the pit with all themyriads of eyes in the universe fastened on its sins. 

He was pressed and jostled by his defenders; once a man's shoulderswere bent back down over his own and he was crushed against the deskuntil his ribs ached; voices thundered and wailed at him, threatening, imploring, cursing, cajoling, raving. 

Smaller groups were struggling and shouting in every part of the room, the distracted sergeants-at-arms roaring and wrestling with therest. On the high dais the Speaker, white but imperturbable, havingbroken his gavel, beat steadily with the handle of an umbrella uponthe square of marble on his desk. Fifteen or twenty members, ragingdementedly, were beneath him, about the clerk's desk and on the stepsleading up to his chair, each howling hoarsely:

"A point of _order_! A point of _or-der_!"

When the semblance of order came at last, the roll was finished, "reconsidered, " the "Breaker" was beaten, 50 to 49, was dead; andUncle Billy Rollinson was creeping down the outer steps of theStatehouse in the cold February slush and rain. 

He was glad to be out of the nightmare, though it seemed still uponhim, the horrible clamours, all gonging and blaring at _him_; thered, maddened faces, the clenched fists, the open mouths, all ragingat _him_--all the ruck and uproar swam about the dazed old man ashe made his slow, unseeing way through the wet streets. 

He was too late for dinner at his dingy boarding house, havingwandered far, and he found himself in his room without knowing verywell how he had come there, indeed, scarcely more than half-consciousthat he _was_ there. He sat, for a long time, in the dark. Aftera while he mechanically lit the lamp, sat again to stare at it, then, finding his eyes watering, he turned from it with an incoherentwhimper, as if it had been a person from whom he would conceal thefact that he was weeping. He leaned his arm, against the window silland dried his eyes on the shiny sleeve. 

An hour later, there came a hard, imperative knock on the door. UncleBilly raised his head and said gently:

"Come in. "

He rose to his feet uncertain, aghast, when he saw who his visitorwas. It was Hurlbut. 

The young man confronted him darkly, for a moment, in silence. He wasdripping with rain; his hat, unremoved, shaded lank black locks over awhite face; his nostrils were wide with wrath; the "dry cigar" waggedbetween gritting teeth. 

"Will ye take a chair?" faltered Uncle Billy. 

The room rang to the loud answer of the other: "I'd see you in Hellbefore I'd sit in a chair of yours!"

He raised an arm, straight as a rod, to point at the oldman. "Rollinson, " he said, "I've come here to tell you what I think ofyou! I've never done that in my life before, because I never thoughtany man worth it. I do it because I need the luxury of it--because I'msick of myself not to have had gumption enough to see what you wereall the time and have you watched!"

Uncle Billy was stung to a moment's life. "Look here, " he quavered, "you hadn't ought to talk that way to me. There ain't a cent of moneypassed my fingers--"

Hurlbut's bitter laugh cut him short. "_No?_ Don't you suppose_I know_ how it was done? Do you suppose there's a man in thewhole Assembly doesn't know how you were sold? I had it by the longdistance an hour ago, from your own home. Do you suppose _we_have no friends there, or that it was hard to find out about the wholedirty business? Your son's not going to stand trial for bigamy; thatwas the price you charged for killing the bill. You and Pixley are theonly men whom they could buy with all their millions! Oh, I know adozen men who could be bought on other issues, but not on _this_!You and Pixley stand alone. Well, you've broken the caucus and you'vebetrayed the Democratic party. I've come to tell you that the partydoesn't want you any more. You are out of it, do you hear? We don'twant even to use you!"

The old man had sunk back into his chair, stricken white, his handsfluttering helplessly. "I didn't go to hurt your feelings, Mr. Hurlbut, " he said. "I never knowed how it would be, but I don'tthink you ought to say I done anything dishonest. I just felt kind offriendly to the railroads--"

The leader's laugh cut him off again. "Friendly! Yes, that's what youwere! Well, you can go back to your friends; you'll need them!--Motherin Heaven! How you fooled us! We thought you were the straightest manand the staunchest Democrat--"

"I b'en a Democrat all my life, Mr. Hurlbut. I voted fer--"

"Well, you're a Democrat no longer. You're done for, do youunderstand? And we're done with you!"

"You mean, " the old man's voice shook almost beyond control; "you meanyou're tryin' to read me out of the party?"

"Trying to!" Hurlbut turned to the door. "You're out! It's done. Youcan thank God that your 'friends' did their work so well that we can'tprove what we know. On my soul, you dog, if we could I believe some ofthe boys would send you over the road. "

An hour after he had gone, Uncle Billy roused himself from his stupor, and the astonished landlady heard his shuffling step on the stair. Shefollowed him softly and curiously to the front door, and watchedhim. He was bare-headed but had not far to go. The night-flare of thecheap, all-night saloon across the sodden street silhouetted thestooping figure for a moment and then the swinging doors shut the oldman from her view. She returned to her parlour and sat waiting for hisreturn until she fell asleep in her chair. She awoke at two o'clock, went to his room, and was aghast to find it still vacant. 

"The Lord have mercy on us all!" she cried aloud. "To think that oldrascal'd go out on a spree! He'd better of stayed in the country wherehe belonged. "

It was the next morning that the House received a shock which loosedanother riot, but one of a kind different from that which greetedRepresentative Rollinson's vote on the "Breaker. " The reading-clerkhad sung his way through an inconsequent bill; most of the memberswere buried in newspapers, gossiping, idling, or smoking in thelobbies, when a loud, cracked voice was heard shrilly demandingrecognition. 

"Mr. Speaker!" Every one turned with a start. There was Uncle Billy, on his feet, violently waving his hands at the Speaker. "Mr. Speaker, Mr. Speaker, Mr. Speaker!" His dress was disordered and muddy; hiseyes shone with a fierce, absurd, liquorish light; and with eachsyllable that he uttered his beard wagged to an unspeakable effect ofcomedy. He offered the most grotesque spectacle ever seen in thathall--a notable distinction. 

For a moment the House sat in paralytic astonishment. Then came anawed whisper from a Republican: "Has the old fool really found hisvoice?"

"No, he's drunk, " said a neighbour. "I guess he can afford it, afterhis vote yesterday!"

"Mister Speaker! _Mister_ Speaker!"

The cracked voice startled the lobbies. The hangers-on, thetypewriters, the janitors, the smoking members came pouring into thechamber and stood, transfixed and open-mouthed. 

"_Mister Speaker_!"

Then the place rocked with the gust of laughter and ironical cheeringthat swept over the Assembly, Members climbed upon their chairs and ondesks, waving handkerchiefs, sheets of foolscap, and waste-baskets. "Hear 'im! _He-ear_ 'im!" rang the derisive cry. 

The Speaker yielded in the same spirit and said:

"The Gentleman from Wixinockee. "

A semi-quiet followed and the cracked voice rose defiantly:

"That's who I am! I'm the Gentleman from Wixinockee an' I stan' hereto defen' the principles of the Democratic party!"

The Democrats responded with violent hootings, supplemented by cheersof approval from the Republicans. The high voice out-shrieked themall: "Once a Democrat, always a Democrat! I voted Dem'cratic tick'tforty year, born a Democrat an' die a Democrat. Fellow sizzens, I wantto say to you right here an' now that principles of Dem'cratic partysaved this country a hun'erd times from Republican mal-'diministrationan' degerdation! Lemme tell you this: you kin take my life away butyou can't say I don' stan' by Dem'cratic party, mos' glorious party ofDouglas an' Tilden, Hen'ricks, Henry Clay, an' George Washin'ton. Isay to you they _hain't_ no other party an' I'm member of it tilldeath an' Hell an' f'rever after, so help me _God_!"

He smote the desk beside him with the back of his hand, using all hisstrength, skinning his knuckles so that the blood dripped from them, unnoticed. He waved both arms continually, bending his body almostdouble and straightening up again, in crucial efforts foremphasis. All the old jingo platitudes that he had learned fromcampaign speakers throughout his life, the nonsense and brag and blat, the cheap phrases, all the empty balderdash of the platform, rushed tohis incoherent lips. 

The lord of misrule reigned at the end of each sentence, as themembers sprang again upon the chairs and desks, roaring, waving, purple with laughter. The Speaker leaned back exhausted in his chairand let the gavel rest. Spectators, pages, galleries whooped andhowled with the members. Finally the climax came. 

"I want to say to you just this _here_, " shrilled the crackedvoice, "an' you can tell the Republican party that I said so, tell 'emstraight from _me_, an' I hain't goin' back on it; I reckon theyknow who I am, too; I'm a man that's honest--I'm as honest as the dayis long, I am--as honest as the day is long--"

He was interrupted by a loud voice. "_Yes_, " it cried, "_whenthat day is the twenty-first of December!_"

That let pandemonium loose again, wilder, madder than before. A memberthrew a pamphlet at Uncle Billy. In a moment the air was thick with aBrobdingnagian snow-storm: pamphlets, huge wads of foolscap, bills, books, newspapers, waste-baskets went flying at the grotesque targetfrom every quarter of the room. Members "rushed" the old man, hooting, cheering; he was tossed about, half thrown down, bruised, but, clamorous over all other clamours, jumping up and down to shriek overthe heads of those who hustled him, his hands waving frantically inthe air, his long beard wagging absurdly, still desperatelyvociferating his Democracy and his honesty. 

That was only the beginning. He had, indeed, "found his voice"; for heseldom went now to the boarding-house for his meals, but patronizedthe free-lunch counter and other allurements of the establishmentacross the way. Every day he rose in the House to speak, never failingto reach the assertion that he was "as honest as the day is long, "which was always greeted in the same way. 

For a time he was one of the jokes that lightened the tedious businessof law-making, and the members looked forward to his "_Mis-terSpeaker_" as schoolboys look forward to recess. But, after a week, the novelty was gone. 

The old man became a bore. The Speaker refused to recognize him, andgrew weary of the persistent shrilling. The day came when Uncle Billywas forcibly put into his seat by a disgusted sergeant-at-arms. He washalf drunk (as he had come to be most of the time), but thishumiliation seemed to pierce the alcoholic vapours that surrounded hisalways feeble intelligence. He put his hands up to his face and criedlike a whimpering child. Then he shuffled out and went back to thesaloon. He soon acquired the habit of leaving his seat in the Housevacant; he was no longer allowed to make speeches there; he made themin the saloon, to the amusement of the loafers and roughs who infestedit. They badgered him, but they let him harangue them, and applaudedhis rhodomontades. 

Hurlbut, passing the place one night at the end of the session, heardthe quavering, drunken voice, and paused in the darkness to listen. 

"I tell you, fellow-countrymen, I've voted Dem'cratic tick't fortyyear, live a Dem'crat, die a Dem'crat! An' I'm's honest as day islong!"

 * * * * *

It was five years after that session, when Hurlbut, now in thenational Congress, was called to the district in which Wixinockeelies, to assist his hard-pressed brethren in a campaign. He wasdriving, one afternoon, to a political meeting in the country, when arecollection came to him and he turned to the committee chairman, whoaccompanied him, and said:

"Didn't Uncle Billy Rollinson live somewhere near here?"

"Why, yes. You knew him in the legislature, didn't you?"

"A little. Where is he now?"

"Just up ahead here. I'll show you. "

They reached the gate of a small, unkempt, weedy graveyard andstopped. 

"The inscription on the head-board is more or less amusing, " said thechairman, as he got out of the buggy, "considering that he was thoughtto be pretty crooked, and I seem to remember that he was 'read out ofthe party, ' too. But he wrote the inscription himself, on hisdeath-bed, and his son put it there. "

There was a sparse crop of brown grass growing on the grave to whichhe led his companion. A cracked wooden head-board, already tiltingrakishly, marked Henry's devotion. It had been white-washed and theinscription done in black letters, now partly washed away by the rain, but still legible:

HERE LIES THE MORTAL REMAINS OF WILLIAM ROLLINSON A LIFE-LONG DEMOCRATAND A MAN AS HONEST AS THE DAY IS LONG

The chairman laughed. "Don't that beat thunder? You knew his record inthe legislature didn't you?"

"Yes. "

"He _was_ as crooked as they say he was, wasn't he?"

Hurlbut had grown much older in five years, and he was in Congress. Hewas climbing the ladder, and, to hold the position he had gained, andto insure his continued climbing, he had made some sacrifices withinhimself by obliging his friends--sacrifices which he did not name. 

"I could hardly say, " he answered gently, his down-bent eyes fastenedon the sparse, brown grass. "It's not for us to judge too much. Ibelieve, maybe, that if he could hear me now, I'd ask his pardon forsome things I said to him once. "

HECTOR

It isn't the party manager, you understand, that gets the fame; it'sthe candidate. The manager tries to keep his candidate in what thenewspapers call a "blaze of publicity"; that is, to keep certain spotsof him in the blaze, while sometimes it is the fact that a candidatedoes not know much of what is really going on; he gets all the redfire and sky-rockets, and, in the general dazzle and nervousness, isunconscious of the forces which are to elect or defeat him. Strangeas it is, the more glare and conspicuousness he has, the more heusually wants. But the more a working political manager gets, the lesshe wants. You see, it's a great advantage to keep out of the highlights. 

For my part, not even being known or important enough to be named"Dictator, " now and then, in the papers, I've had my fun in the gamevery quietly. Yet I did come pretty near being a famous man once, agood while ago, for about a week. That was just after Hector J. Ransommade his great speech on the "Patriotism of the Pasture" which set thecountry to talking about him and, in time, brought him all he desired. 

You remember what a big stir that speech made, of course--everybodyremembers it. The people in his State went just wild with pride, andall over the country the papers had a sort of catch head-line:"Another Daniel Webster Come to Judgment!" When the reporters in myown town found out that Ransom was a second cousin of mine, I was putinto a scare-head for the only time in my life. For a week I was apublic character and important to other people besides the boys thatdo the work at primaries. I was interviewed every few minutes; and areporter got me up one night at half-past twelve to ask for someanecdotes of Hector's "Boyhood Days and Rise to Fame. "

I didn't oblige that young man, but I knew enough. I was always fondof my first cousin, Mary Ransom, Hector's mother; and in the old daysI never passed through Greenville, the little town where they lived, without stopping over, a train or two, to visit with her, and I sawplenty of Hector! I never knew a boy that left the other boys to comeinto the parlour (when there was company) quicker than Hector, and Icertainly never saw a boy that "showed off" more. His mother waswrapped up in him; you could see in a minute that she fairlyworshipped him; but I don't know, if it hadn't been for Mary, that I'dhave praised his recitations and elocution so much, myself. 

Mary and I wouldn't any more than get to tell each other how longsince we'd heard from Aunt Sue, before Hector would grow uneasy andswitch around on the sofa and say: "Ma, I'd rather you wouldn't tellcousin Ben about what happened at the G. A. R. Reunion. I don't wantto go through all that stuff again. "

At that, Mary's eyes would light up and she'd say: "You must, Hector, you must! I want him to hear you do it; he mustn't go away withoutthat!" Then she'd go on to tell me how Hector had recited Lincoln'sGettysburg speech at a meeting of the local post of the G. A. R. Andhow he was applauded, and that many of the veterans had told him if hekept on he'd be Governor of his State some day, and how proud she wasof him and how he was so different from ordinary boys that she wasoften anxious about him. Then she would urge him to let me haveit--and he always would, especially if I said: "Oh, don't _make_the boy do it, Mary!"

He would stand out in the middle of the floor and thrust his chin out, knitting his brow and widening his nostrils, and shout "Of the people, By the people, and For the people" at the top of his lungs in thatlittle parlour. He always had a great talent for mimicry, a talent ofwhich I think he was absolutely unconscious. He would give hisspeeches in exactly the boy-orator style; that is, he imitatedspeakers who imitated others who had heard Daniel Webster. Mary andhe, however, had no idea that he imitated anybody; they thought it wascreative genius. 

When he had finished Lincoln, he would say: "Well, I've got anotherthat's a good deal better, but I don't want to go through that today;it's too much trouble, " with the result that in a few minutes PatrickHenry would take a turn or two in his grave. Hector always placedhimself by a table for "Liberty or Death, " and barked his knuckles onit for emphasis. Little he cared, so long as he thought he'd got hiseffect! You could see, in spite of the intensity of his expression, that he was perfectly happy. 

When he'd worked us through that, and perhaps "Horatius at the Bridge"and the quarrel scene between Brutus and Cassius and was pretty wellemptied, he'd hang about and interrupt in a way that made merestless. Neither Mary nor I could get out two sentences before theboy would cut in with something like: "Don't tell cousin Ben aboutthat day I recited in school; I'm tired of all that guff!"

Then Mary would answer: "It isn't guff, precious. I never was prouderof you in my life. " And she'd go on to tell me about another of histriumphs, and how he made up speeches of his own sometimes, and wouldstand on a box and deliver them to his boy friends, though she didn'tsay how the boys received them. All the while, Hector would stare atme like a neighbour's cat on your front steps, to see what impressionit made on me; and I was conscious that he was sure that I knew he wasa wonderful boy. I think he felt that everybody knew it. Hector kindof palled on me. 

When he was about sixteen, Mary wrote me that she was in greatdistress about him because he had decided to go on the stage; that hehad written to John McCullough, offering to take the place of leadingman in his company to begin with. Mary was sure, she said, that thelife of an actor was a hard one; Hector had always been very delicate(I had known him to eat a whole mince pie without apparent distressafterward) and she wanted me to write and urge him to change hismind. She felt sure Mr. McCullough would send for him at once, becauseHector had written him that he already knew all the principalShakespearian roles, could play Brutus, Cassius, or Mark Antony asdesired; and he had added a letter of recommendation from the Mayor oftheir city, declaring that Hector was a finer elocutionist andtragedian than any actor he had ever seen. 

The dear woman's anxiety was needless, for she wrote me, with as muchsurprise as pleasure, two months later, that for some reasonMr. McCullough had not answered the letter, and that she was veryhappy; she had persuaded Hector to go to college. 

How she kept him there, the first two years, I don't know, for herhusband had only left her about four hundred dollars a year. Ofcourse, living in Greenville isn't expensive, but it does costsomething, and I honestly believe Mary came near to living onnothing. It was a small college that she'd sent the boy to, but it wasa mother's point with her that Hector should be as comfortable asanyone there. 

I stopped off at Greenville, one day, toward the end of his secondyear, but before he'd come home, and I saw how it was. Mary seemed asglad as ever to see me--it was the same old bright greeting that she'dalways given me. She saw me from the dining-room window where she waseating her supper, and she came out, running down to the gate to meetme, like a girl; but she looked thin and pale. 

I said I'd go right in and have some supper with her, and at that theroses came back quickly to her cheeks. "No, " she said, "I wasn'treally at supper; only having a bite beforehand; I'm going up-town nowto get the things for supper. You smoke a cigar out on the porch tillI get back, and--"

I took her by the arm. "Not much, Mary, " I said. "I'm going to havethe same supper you had for yourself. "

So I went straight out to the dining-room; and all I found on thetable was some dry bread toasted and a baked apple without cream orsugar. It gave me a pretty good idea of what the general run of hermeals must have been. 

I had a long talk with her that night, and I wormed it out of her thatHector's college expenses were about twenty-five dollars a month, which left her six to live on. The truth is, she didn't have enough toeat, and you could see how happy it made her. She read me a good manyof Hector's letters, her voice often trembling with happiness over histriumphs. The letters were long, I'll say that for Hector, which mayhave been to his credit as a son, or it may have been because he hadsuch an interesting subject. There was no doubt that he had workedhard; he had taken all the chief prizes for oratory and essay writingand so forth that were open to him; he also allowed it to be seen thathe was the chief person in the consideration of his class and thefraternity he had joined. Mary had a sort of humbleness about beingthe mother of such a son. 

But I settled one thing with her that night, though I had to hurt herfeelings to do it. I owned a couple of small notes which had justfallen due, and I could spare the money. I put it as a loan to Hectorhimself; he was to pay me back when he got started, and so it wasarranged that he could finish his course without his mother's livingon apples and toast. 

I went over to his Commencement with Mary and we hadn't been in thetown an hour before we saw that Hector was the king of the place. Hehad _all_ the honours; first in his class, first in oratory, first in everything; professors and students all kow-towed and soundedthe hew-gag before him. Most of Mary's time was put in crying withhappiness. As for Hector himself, he had changed in just one way: heno longer looked at people to see his effect on them; he was tooconfident of it. 

His face had grown to be the most determined I have ever seen. Therewas no obstinacy in it--he wasn't a bull-dog--only set determination. No one could have failed to read in it an immensely powerful will. Ina curious way he seemed "on edge" all the time. His nostrils werealways distended, the muscles of his lean jaw were never lax, butcontinually at tension, thrusting the chin forward with his teeth hardtogether. His eyebrows were contracted, I think, even in his sleep, and he looked at everything with a sort of quick, fierce, appearanceof scrutiny, though at that time I imagined that he saw very little. He had a loud, rich voice, his pronunciation was clipped to a deadlydistinctness; he was so straight and his head so high in the air thathe seemed almost to tilt back. With his tall figure and black hair, hewas a boy who would have attracted attention, as they say, in anycrowd, so that he might have been taken for a young actor. His bestfriend, a kind of Man Friday to him, was another young fellow fromGreenville, whose name was Joe Lane. I liked Joe. I'd known him? sincehe was a boy. He was lazy and pleasant-looking, with reddish hair anda drawling, low voice. He had a humorous, sensible expression, thoughhe was dissipated, I'd heard, but very gentle in his manners. I had atalk with him under the trees of the college campus in the moonlight, Commencement night. I can see the boy lying there now, sprawling onthe grass with a cigar in his mouth. 

"Hector's done well, " I said. 

"Oh, Lord, yes!" Joe answered. "He always will. He's going 'way up inthe world. "

"What makes you think so?"

"Because he's so sure of it. It only needs a little luck to make him agreat man. In fact, he already is a great man. "

"You mean you think he has a great mind?"

"Why, no, sir; but I think he has a purpose so big and so set, that itmight be called great, and it will make him great. "

"What purpose?"

Joe answered quietly but very slowly, pulling at his cigar after eachsyllable: "Hec--tor--J. Ran--som!"

"I declare, " I put in, "I thought you were his friend!"

"So I am, " the young fellow returned. "Friend, admirer, anddoer-in-ordinary to Hector J. Ransom, that's my quality. I've doneerrands and odd jobs for him all my life. Most people who meet him do;though it might be hard to say why. I haven't hitched my wagon to astar; nobody'll get to do that, because this star isn't going to takeanything to the zenith but itself. "

"Going to the zenith, is he?"

"Surely. "

"You mean, " said I, "that he's going to make a fine lawyer?"

"Oh, no, I think not. He might have been called one in the lastgeneration, but, as I understand it, nowadays a lawyer has to work outbusiness propositions more than oratory. "

"And you think Hector has only his oratory?"

"I think that's his vehicle; it's his racing sulky and he'll drive itpretty hard. We're good friends, but if you want me to be frank, Ishould say that he'd drive on over my dead body if it lay in the roadto where he was going. " Lane rolled over in the grass with a littlechuckle. "Of course, " he went on, "I talk about him this way becauseI know what you've done for him and I'd like to help you to be surethat he's going to be a success. He'll do you credit!"

"What are you going to do, yourself, Joe?" I asked. 

"Me?" He sat up, looking surprised. "Why, didn't you know? I didn'tget my degree. They threw me out at the eleventh hour for getting toopublicly tight--celebrating Hector's winning the works of Lord Byron, the prize in the senior debate! I'll never be a credit to anybody; andas for what I'm going to do--go back to Greenville and loaf in Tim'spool-room, I suppose, and watch Hector's balloon. "

However, Hector's balloon seemed uninclined to soar, at theset-off--though Hector didn't. The next summer began a presidentialcampaign, and Hector, knowing that I was chairman of my countycommittee, and strangely overestimating my importance, came up to seeme: he asked me to use my influence with the National Committee tohave him sent to make speeches in one of the doubtful States; hethought he could carry it for us. I explained that I had no wiresleading up so far as the National Committee. There were other thingsI might have explained, but it didn't seem much use. Hector would havethought I wanted to "keep him down. "

He thought so anyway, because, after a crestfallen moment, he began tolook at me in his fierce eye-to-eye way with what seemed to me a darksuspicion. He came and struck my desk with his clinched fist (he wasalways strong on that), and exclaimed:

"Then by the eternal gods, if my own flesh and blood won't help me, I'll go to Chicago myself, lay my credentials before the committee, unaided, and wring from them--"

"Hold on, Hector, " I said. "Why didn't you say you had credentials?What are they?"

"What are they?" he answered in a rising voice. "You ask me what aremy credentials? The credentials of my patriotism, my poverty, and mypride! You ask me for my credentials? The credentials of youth!" (Hehit the desk every few words. ) "The credentials of enthusiasm! Thecredentials of strength! You ask for my credentials? The credentialsof red blood, of red corpuscles, of young manhood, ripest in theglorious young West! The credentials of vitality! Of virile--"

"Hold on, " I said again, but I couldn't stop him. He went on forprobably fifteen minutes, pacing the room and gesticulating andthundering at me, though we two were all alone. I felt mightyridiculous, but, of course, I'd been through much the same thing withone or two candidates and orators before. I thought then that he waspractising on me, but I came afterward to see that I was partlywrong. "Oratory" was his only way of expressing himself; he couldn'tjust _talk_, to save his life. All you could do, when he began, was to sit and take it till he got through, which consumed somevaluable time for me that afternoon. I suppose I was profane inside, for having given him that cue with "credentials. " Finally I got in aquestion:

"Why not begin a little more mildly, Hector? Why don't you make somespeeches in your own county first?"

"I have consented to make the Fourth of July oration at Greenville, "he answered. 

Before he could go on, I got up and slapped him on the back. "That'sright!" I said. "That's right! Go back and show the home folks whatyou can do, and I'll come down to hear it!"

And so I did. Mary was, if possible, more flustered and upset than atHector's Commencement. She and Joe Lane and I had a bench close up tothe stand, and on the other side of Mary sat a girl I'd never seenbefore. Mary introduced me to her in a way that made me risk a guessthat Hector liked her more than common. Her name was Laura Rainey, andshe'd come to Greenville, a year before, to teach in the high-school. She was young, not quite twenty, I reckoned, and as pretty and daintya girl as ever I saw; thin and delicate-looking, though not in thesense of poor health; and she struck me as being very sweet andthoughtful. Joe Lane told me, with his little chuckle, that she'd hada good deal of trouble in the school on account of all the older boysfalling in love with her. 

Something in the way he spoke made me watch Joe, and I was sure ifhe'd been one of her pupils he wouldn't have lightened her worriesmuch in that direction. He had it himself. I saw it, or, I should say, I felt it, in spite of his never seeming to look at her. She looked athim, however, and pretty often, too; and there was a good deal ofinterest in her eyes, only it was a sad kind, which I understood, Ithought, when I found that Joe had been on a long spree and had justsobered up the day before. 

Hector sat above us on the platform, with the Mayor and the CountyJudge, and when the latter introduced him, and the same old whitepitcher and glass of water on a pine table, the boy came forward withslow and impressive steps, and, setting his left fist on his hip, allowed his right arm to hang straight by his side till his handrested on the table, like a statesman of the day standing for aphotograph. His brow contained a commanding frown, and he stood forsome moments in that position, while, to my astonishment, the crowdcheered itself hoarse. 

There was no mistaking the genuine enthusiasm that he evoked, though Ididn't feel it myself. I suppose the only explanation is that he hada great deal of what is called "magnetism. " What made it I don'tknow. He was good-looking enough, with his dark eyes and hair, andwhite, intense face and black clothes; but there was more in thecheering than appreciation of that. I could not doubt that he producedon the crowd, by his quiet attitude, an apparition of greatness. Therewas some kind of hypnotism in it, I suppose. 

The speech was about what I was looking for: bombastic platitudesdelivered with such earnestness and velocity that "every point scored"and the cheering came whenever he wanted it. 

For instance: he would retire a few steps toward the rear, and, pointing to the sky, adjure it in a solemn voice which made every onelean forward in a dead hush:

"Tell me, ye silent stars, that seem to slumber 'neath the auroralcoverlet of day, tell me, down what laurelled pathways among ye walkour dead, the heroes whose blood was our benison, bequeathing to usthe heritage of this flower-strewn land; they who have passed to thatbourne whence no traveller returns? Answer me: Are not _theirs_the loftiest names inscribed on your marble catalogues of thenations?" He let his voice out startlingly and shouted: "CREEPS therea creature of the earth with spirit so sordid as to doubt it, to doubt_who_ heads those gilded rolls! If there be, then _I_ say tohim, 'Beware!' For the names I see written above me to-day on theimmemorial canopy of heaven begin with that of the spotless knight, the unsceptred and uncrowned king, the godlike and immaculate"--(herehe turned suddenly, ran to the front of the stage, and, withoutstretched fist shaking violently over our heads, thundered at thefull power of his lungs): "GEORGE WASHINGTON!"

He did the same for Jefferson, Jackson, Lincoln, Grant, and four orfive governors and senators of the State; and at every name the crowdwent wild, worked up to it by Hector in the same way. But whatsurprised me was his daring to conclude his list with a votiveoffering laid at the feet of Passley Trimmer. Trimmer was thecongressional representative of that district and one of the meanestmen and smartest politicians in the world. He was always creeping outof tight places and money-scandals by the skin of his teeth; and yet, by building up the finest personal machine in the State, he stuck tohis seat in Congress term after term, in spite of the fact that mostof the intelligent and honest men in his district despised him. It wasa proof of the power Hector held over his audience that, by histribute to Trimmer, he was able to evoke the noisiest enthusiasm ofthe afternoon. 

Nevertheless, what really tickled me most was the boy's peroration. Itgave me a pretty clear insight into his "innard workings. " He led upto it in his favourite way: stepping backward a pace or two andsinking his voice to a kind of Edwin Booth quiet; gradually growing alittle louder; then suddenly turning on the thunder and runningforward. 

"You ask _me_ for our credentials?" he roared. (Nobody had, thistime. ) "In the Lexicon of the Peoples, you ask _me_ for mycountry's credentials? The credentials of our pastures, ourpopulation and our pride! You ask me for my country's credentials? Ireply: 'The credentials of our youth and our enthusiasm! Of redcorpuscles! Of red blood! The credentials of the virility and of themagnificent manhood of the Columbian Continent!' You ask for mycountry's credentials and I answer: 'The credentials of Glory! Byright of the eternal and Almighty God!'"

Of course there was a great deal more, but that's enough to show howhe had polished it. 

 * * * * *

I walked back to Mary's with Joe Lane, while Hector followed, making akind of Royal Progress through the crowds, with his mother and MissRainey. 

"You see it now, yourself, don't you?" Joe said to me. 

"You mean about his doing well?"

"What else? He's just shown what he can do with people. The day willcome when you'll have to take him at his own valuation. "

I couldn't help laughing. "Well, Joe, " I said, "that sounds as if_you_, at least, already took Hector at his own valuation. "

"In some things, " he answered, "I think I do. Don't you take him foran ass, sir. Sometimes I believe he's guided by a really superiorintelligence--"

"Must be a sub-consciousness, then, Joe!"

"Exactly, " he said seriously. "He doesn't make a single mistake. He'strained his manner so that, while a very few people laugh at him, hedoes things that the town would resent in any one else. He doesn't goround with the boys, and they look up to him for it. He isn't pompous, but he's acquired a kind of stateliness of manner that's madeGreenville call him 'Mister Ransom' instead of 'Hec. ' You probablythink that his request to the National Committee only shows he's gotall the nerve in the world; but I believe, on my soul, that if it hadbeen granted he could have made good. "

"What did he want to run Passley Trimmer into his Pantheon for, to-day?" I asked. 

Joe's honest face looked a little dark at this. "It's only anotherproof of the shrewdness that directs him, though it was, maybe, alittle bit sickening. He talks gold and stars and eternal gods, aboutsweetness and light and pure politics and reform, but he wants PassleyTrimmer's machine to take him up. Passley Trimmer and his brother, Link, are a good-sized curse to this district, I expect you know, butHector's courting them. Link is the dirtiest we've ever had here, andhe holds all the rottenest in this county solid for Passley. He'soverbearing; ugly, too; shot a nigger in the hip a year ago, andcrippled him for life on account of a little back-talk, and got offscot-free. I had a row with him in a saloon last week; I was tight, Isuppose, though there's always been bad blood between us, anyway, drunk or sober, and I didn't know much what happened, except that Irefused to drink in his company and he cursed me out and I blacked aneye for him before they separated us. Well, sir, next day, here wasHector demanding that I go and apologize to Link. I said I'd as soonapologize to a rattlesnake, and Hector upbraided me in his rhetoric, but with a whole lot of real feeling, too. He was even pathetic aboutit: put it on the ground that I owed it to morality, by which he meantHector. I was known to be his most intimate friend; I had done him anirrecoverable injury with the Trimmers, who would extend theirretaliation and let _him_ have a share of it, as my friend. Heended by declaring that he should withhold the light of hiscountenance from me until I had repaired the wrong done to his cause, and had apologized to Link!"

"Did you do it?"

The good fellow answered with his little chuckle: "Of course! Don'tyou see that he gets everybody to do what he wants? It's almost sheerwill, and he's a true cloud-compeller. "

I wanted to understand something else, and I didn't know how much Marycould tell me; that is, I was sure that she would think that MissRainey was in love with Hector. Mary wouldn't be able to see how anygirl could help it. 

"Joe, " I said, "does Hector seem much taken with this Miss Rainey?"

We had come to the gate, and Lane stopped to relight a cigar before heanswered. He kept the match at the stub until it burned out, halfhiding his face from me with his hands, shielding the flame from abreeze that wasn't blowing. 

"Yes, " he said finally, "as much as he could be with anybody--at leasthe wants her to be taken with him. "

"Do you think she is?"

He swung the gate open, and stood to let me pass in first. "She couldbe of great help to him. We've all got to help Hector. "

I was going on: "You believe she will--"

"Did you ever hear, " he interrupted, "of Jane Welsh Carlyle?"

I thought about that answer of Joe's most of the evening, and itstruck me he was right. It was one of those things you couldn'tpossibly explain to save your life, but you knew it: everybody had_got_ to help Hector. Everybody had to get behind him andpush. Hector took it for granted in a way that passed the love ofwoman!

And yet, as we sat at Mary's supper-table, that evening, I don't knowthat I ever felt less real liking for any of my kin than I felt forHector, though, perhaps, that was because he seemed to keep rubbing itin on me in indirect ways that I had done him an injury by not helpinghim with the National Committee, and that I ought to know it, afterhis triumph of the afternoon. I could see that Mary agreed with him, though in her gentle way. 

Young Lane and Miss Rainey stayed for supper, too, and were veryquiet. Miss Rainey struck me as a quiet girl generally, and Joe nevertalked, anyway, when in Hector's company. For that matter, nobody elsedid; there was mighty little chance. The truth is, Hector had animpediment of speech: he couldn't listen. 

Of course he talked only about himself. That followed, because it wasall there was in him. Not that it always _seemed_ to be abouthimself. For instance, I remember one of his ways of rubbing it intome, that evening. He had been delivering himself of some opinions onthe nature of Genius, fragments (like his "credentials"--I had asneaking idea) of some undeveloped oration or other. "Look atNapoleon!" he bade us, while Mary was cutting the pie. "Could Barraswith all his jealous and malevolent opposition, could Barras with allhis craft, all his machinations, with all the machinery of the State, could Barras oppose the upward flight of that mighty spirit? No!Barras, who should have been the faithful friend, the helper, thedisciple and believer, Barras, I say, set himself to destroy the youthwhose genius he denied, and Barras was himself destroyed! He fell, forhe had dared to oppose the path of one of the eternal stars!"

That was a sample, and I don't exaggerate it. I couldn't exaggerateHector; it's beyond me; he always exaggerated himself beyond anybodyelse's power to do it. But I loved to hear Joe Lane's chuckle and Igot one out of him when I offered him a cigar as we went out on theporch. 

"Take one, " I said. "It's one of Barras's best. "

"Better get in line, " was all he added to the chuckle. 

 * * * * *

A good many visitors dropped in, during the evening, Greenville'sgreatest come to congratulate Hector on the speech. Everybody in thecounty was talking about him that night, they said. Hector receivedthese people in his old-fashioned-statesman manner, though I noticedthat already he shook hands like a candidate. He would grasp thecaller's hand quickly and decidedly, instead of letting the other dothe gripping. And I could see that all those who came in, evenhard-headed men twice his age, treated him deferentially, with the airof intimate respect that he somehow managed to exact from people. Perhaps I don't do him justice: he was a "mighty myster'us" boy!

I sat and smoked, lounging in one of Mary's comfortableporch-chairs. I managed without trouble to be in the background and Icouldn't help putting in most of my time studying Joe Lane and MissRainey. Those two were sitting, on the side-steps of the porch, alittle apart from the rest of us--and a little apart from each other, too. Lord knows how you get such strong impressions, but I was verysoon perfectly sure that these two young people were in love with eachother and that they both knew it, but that they had given each otherup. I was sure, too, that they were both under Hector's spell, andpreposterous as it may seem, that they were under his _will_, andthat Hector's plans included Miss Rainey for himself. 

It was a mighty pretty evening; full of flower-smells and breezes fromthe woods, which began just across the village street. Joe sat in asort of doubled-up fashion he had, his thin hands clasped like a strapround his knees. She sat straight and trim, both of them looking outtoward where the twilight was fading. As the darkness came on I couldbarely make them out, a couple of quiet shadows, seemingly as far awayfrom the group about the lamp-lit doorway where Hector sat, as if theywere alone on big Jupiter who was setting up to be the whole thing, far out yonder in the lonely sky. 

By and by, the moon oozed round from behind the house and leakedthrough the trees and I could see them plainer, two silhouettesagainst the foliage of some bright lilac-bushes. Joe hadn't budged, but the back of Miss Rainey's head wasn't toward me as it had beenbefore; it was her profile. She was leaning back a little, against apost, and looking at Joe--just looking at him. Neither of them spoke aword the whole time, and somehow I felt they didn't need to, and thatwhat they had to say to each other had never been spoken and neverwould be. It was mighty pretty--and sad, too. 

I felt so sorry for them, but it made me more or less impatient withHector, and with Joe--especially with Joe, I think. It seemed to me heneedn't have taken his temperament so hopelessly. But what's the useof judging? When a man has a temperament like that, people who haven'tcan't tell what he's got to contend with. 

That Fourth of July speech gave Hector his chance. His districtmanagers and the Trimmer faction saw they could use him; and they senthim round stumping the district. Two campaigns later the StateCommittee was using him, and parts of his speeches were being printedin all the party papers over the State. Locally, I suppose you mightsay, he had become a famous man; at least he acted like one--not thatthere was any essential change in him. His style had undergone a largeimprovement, however; his language was less mixed-up, and he seemedclear-headed enough on "questions of the day, " showing himself to bewell-informed and of a fine judgment. 

In these things I thought I saw the hand of Laura Rainey. The teacherwas helping him. The seriousness of his face had increased, he hadalways entirely lacked humour; yet the spell he managed to cast overhis audiences was greater. He never once failed to "get them going, "as they say. At twenty-nine he was no longer called "a rising youngorator"; no, he was usually introduced as the "Hon. Hector J. Ransom, the Silver-tongued Lochinvar of the West. "

Things hadn't changed much at Greenville. Mary had always been soproud of Hector that she hadn't inflated any more on account of hiswider successes. She couldn't, because she hadn't any room left forit. 

Joe Lane still went on his periodical sprees quite regularly, aboutone week every three months, and he was the least offensive tippler Iever knew. He came up to the city during one of his lapses, and calledat my office. He was dressed with unusual care (he was always a gooddeal of a dandy), and he did not stagger nor slush his syllables;indeed, the only way I could have told what was the matter with him, at first, was by the solemn preoccupation of his expression. A littleblack pickaninny followed him, grinning and carrying a big bundle, covered with a new lace window-curtain. 

"I am but a bearer of votive flowers, " Joe said, bowing. Then turningto the little darky, he waved his hand loftily. "Unveil the offering!"

The pickaninny did so, removing the lace curtain to reveal a shiny newcoal-bucket in which was a lump of ice, whereon reposed a pair ofwhite kid gloves and a large wreath of artificial daisies. 

"With love, " said Joe. "From Hector. " And he stalked majestically out. 

There was a card on the wreath, which Joe had inscribed: "To announcethe betrothal. No regrets. "

Sure enough, the next morning I had a letter from Mary, telling methat Hector and Miss Rainey were engaged, that they had been sowithout announcing it, for several years, and she feared theengagement must last much longer before they could be married. So didI, for all of Hector's glittering had brought him very littlemoney. While he had some law practice, of course it was small, inGreenville, and what he had he neglected. Nor was he a good lawyer. Iknew him to be heavily in debt to Lane, whose father had died lately, leaving Joe fairly well off; and I knew also that this debt sat verylightly on Hector. I judged so, because in the matter of the advancesI had made for his education, I never heard him refer tothem. Probably he forgot all about it, having so many more importantthings to think of. 

Mary was right: it was a very long engagement. It had lasted sevenyears in all, when Passley Trimmer declared himself a candidate forthe nomination for Governor and gave Hector the great chance he hadbeen waiting for. Hector "came out" for Trimmer, and came out strong. He worked for him day and night, and he was one of the best cards inTrimmer's hand. 

It was easy enough to understand: Trimmer's nomination would leave hisseat in Congress vacant and the Trimmer crowd would throw it toHector. 

You could see that the "young Lochinvar" was really a power, and Ithink they counted on him almost as much as on the personal machineTrimmer had built up. Most of all, they counted on Hector's speech, nominating Trimmer, to stampede the convention. If it was to be done, Hector was the man to do it. There's no doubt in the world of theextraordinary capacity he had for whirling a crowd along into a kindof insane enthusiasm. He could make his audience enthusiastic about_anything_; he could have brought them to their feet waving andcheering for Ben Butler himself, if he had set out to do it. I believethat most of us who were against Trimmer were more afraid of Hector'sstampeding the convention than of Trimmer's machine and all the moneyhe was spending. 

I was working all I knew for another man, Henderson, of my county, andour delegation would go into the convention sixty-three solid forHenderson, first, last, and all the time. On that account I had toplay Barras again to the young Napoleon. He came to see me, and madeone of his orations, imploring me to swing half of our delegation forTrimmer on the first ballot, and all of it on the second. 

"But they count on me!" he declaimed. "They count on me to turn you!Is a man to be denied by his own flesh and blood? Are the ties ofrelationship nothing? Can't you see that my whole future is put injeopardy by your refusal? Here is my opportunity at last and youendanger it. My marriage and my fortune depend on it; the cup is atmy lips. My long years of toil and preparation, the bitter, bitterwaiting--are these things to go for nothing? I tell you that if yourefuse me you may blast the most sacred hopes that ever dwelt in ahuman breast!"

I only smoked on, and so he did "the jury pathetic, " and he wassincere in it, too. 

"Have you no heart?" he inquired, his voice shaking. "Can you thinkcalmly of my mother? Remember the years she has waited to see thisrecognition come to her son! Am I to go back to her and tell her thatyour answer was 'No'? I ask you to think of her, I ask you to putself out of your thoughts, to forget your own interests for once, andto think of my mother, waiting in the old home in the quiet villagestreet where you knew her in her bright girlhood. Remember that sheawaits your answer; forget _me_ if you will, but remember what itmeans to _her_, I say, and _then_ if there is a stone inyour breast, instead of a human heart, speak the word 'No'!"

I spoke it, and, as he had to catch his train, he departed more inanger than in sorrow, leaving me to my conscience, he told me. At thedoor he turned. 

"I warn you, " he said, "that this faction of yours shall go down todefeat! Trimmer will win this fight, and I shall take his seat inCongress! That is my first stepping-stone, and I _will_ take it!I have worked too hard and waited too long, for such as you tosuccessfully oppose me. I tell you that we shall meet in theconvention, and you and your machine will be broken! The rewards, then, to us, the victors!"

"Why, of course, " I said, "if you win. "

The Trimmer people were strong with the State Executive Committee, and, in spite of us, worked things a good deal their own way. Theytook the convention away from the State Capital to Greenville, whichwas, of course, a great advantage for Trimmer. The fact is, that mostof the best people in that district didn't like him, but you know howwe all are: he _was_ one _of_ them, and as soon as it seemedhe had a chance to beat men from other parts of the State, they beganto shout themselves black in the face for their own. When I went downthere, the day before the convention, the place was one mass ofTrimmer flags, banners, badges, transparencies, buttons, and brassbands. 

I went around to see Mary right away, and while she wasn't exactlycold to me--the dear woman never could be that to anybody--she wasdifferent; her eyes met mine sadly and her old, sweet voice was alittle tremulous, as if she were sorry that I had done somethingwrong. 

I didn't stay long. I started back to the Henderson headquarters inthe hotel, but on my way I passed a big store-room on a corner of theSquare, which Trimmer had fitted up as his own headquarters. There wasquite a crowd of the boys going in and out, looking cheerful, freshcigars in their mouths, and a drink or two inside, band coming downthe street, everything the way an old-timer likes to see it. 

Passley Trimmer himself came out as I was going by, and with him werehis brother, Link, and two or three other men, among them aweasel-faced little fellow named Hugo Siffles, who kept a drug-storeon the next corner. Hugo wasn't anybody; nobody ever paid anyattention to him at all; but he was one of those empty-headed villagetalkers who are always trying to look as if they were behind thescenes, always trying to walk with important people. Everybody knowsthem. They whisper to the undertaker at funerals; and during campaignsthey have something confidential to communicate to United StatesSenators. They meddle and intrude and waste as much time for you asthey can. 

When Trimmer saw me, he held out his hand. "Hello, Ben! I hear you'renot _for_ me!" he said cordially. 

"How are you running?" I came back at him, laughing. 

"Oh, we're going to beat you, " he answered, in the same way. 

"Well, you'll see a good run, first, I expect!"

He walked along with me, Link and the others following a little waybehind; but Hugo Siffles, of course, walking with us, partly to listenand tell at the drug-store later, and partly to look like statesecrets. 

"Sorry you couldn't see your way to join us, " Trimmer said. "But we'llwin out all right, anyway. I shouldn't think that would be much of adisappointment to you, though. It will be a great thing for one ofyour family. "

"Oh, yes, " I said, "Hector. "

Trimmer took on a little of his benevolent statesman's manner, whichthey nearly all get in time. "I have the greatest confidence in thatyoung man's future, " he said. "He may go to the very top. All he needsis money. I speak to you as a relative: he ought to drop thatschool-teacher and marry a girl with money. He could, easily enough. "

That made me a little ugly. "Oh, no, " I said. "He can make plenty inCongress outside of his salary, can't he? I understand some of themdo. "

Of course Trimmer didn't lose his temper; instead, he laughed outloud, and then put his hand on my shoulder. 

"Look here, " he said. "I'm his friend and you're his cousin. He's oneof my own crowd and I have his best interests at heart. That isn't thegirl for him. He tells me that, for a long while, she used to advisehim against having too much to do with _me_, until he showed herthat winning my influence in his favour was his only chance torise. Now, if _you_ have his best interests at heart, as I have, you'll help persuade him to let her go. Why shouldn't he marrybetter? She's not so young any longer, and she's pretty much lost herlooks. And then, you know people will talk--"

"Talk about what?" I said. 

"Well, if he goes to Congress, and, with his prospects, throws himselfaway on a skinny little old-maid school-teacher in the backwoods, onethat he's been making love to for years, they might say almostanything. Why can't he hand her over to Joe Lane? I'm sure--"

"That'll do, " I interrupted roughly. "I suppose you've been talkingthat way to Hector?"

"Why, certainly. I have his best interests at--"

"Good-day, _sir_!" I said, and turned in at the hotel and lefthim, with Hugo Siffles's little bright pig's eyes peeking at me roundTrimmer's shoulder. 

Sore enough I was, and cursing Trimmer and Hector in my heart, so thatwhen some one knocked on my door, while I was washing up for supper, Isaid "Come in!" as if I were telling a dog to get out. 

It was Joe Lane and he was pretty drunk. He walked over to the bed andcaught himself unsteadily once or twice. I'd never seen him staggerbefore. He didn't speak until he had sat down on the coverlet; then heshaded his eyes with his hand and stared at me as if he wanted to makesure that it _was_ I. 

"I've just been down to Hugo Siffles's drugstore, " he said, speakingvery slowly and carefully, "and Hugo was telling a crowd about aconver--conversation between you and Passley Trimmer. He said Trimmersaid Hector Ransom ought to drop Miss Rainey--and 'hand her over toJoe Lane, ' Is that true?"

"Yes, " I answered. "The beast said that. "

"There was more, " Joe said heavily. "More that im--implied--might betaken to imply scandal, which I believe Trimmer did not seriouslyintend--but thought--thought might be used as an argument with Hectorto persuade him to jilt her?"

"Yes. "

"What was said ex---actly? It is being repeated about town in variousforms. I want to know. "

Like a fool I told him the whole thing. I didn't think, didn't dream, of course, what was in that poor, drunken, devoted head, and I wantedto blow off my own steam, I was so hot. 

He sat very quietly until I had finished; then he took his head inboth hands and rocked himself gently to and fro upon the bed, and Isaw tears trickling down his cheeks. It was a wretched spectacle in away, he being drunk and crying like a child, but I don't think Idespised him. 

"And she so true, " he sobbed, "so good, so faithful to him! She'sgiven him her youth, her whole sweet youth--all of it for him!" He gotto his feet and went to the door. 

"Hold on, Joe, " I said, "where are you going?"

"'Nother drink!" he said, and closed the door behind him. 

After supper I went to work with Henderson and three or four others ina little back-room in our headquarters; and we were hard at it whenone of the boys held up his hand and said: "Listen!"

The sounds of a big disturbance came in through the open windows:shouting and yelling, and crowds running in the streets below. Thetown had been so noisy all evening that I thought nothing of it. "It'sonly some delegation getting in, " I said. "Go on with the lists. "

But I'd no more than got the words out of my mouth than the noiserolled into the outer rooms of our headquarters like a wave, and therewas a violent hammering on the door of our room, some one calling myname in a loud frightened voice. I threw open the door and HugoSiffles fell in, his pig's eyes starting out of his pale, foolishface. 

"Come with me!" he shouted, all in one breath, and laying hold of meby the lapel of my coat, tried to drag me after him. "There's hell topay! Joe Lane came into Trimmer's headquarters, drunk, twenty minutesago, and slapped Passley Trimmer's face for what he said to us thisafternoon. Link Trimmer came in, a minute later, drunk too, and heardwhat had happened. He followed Joe to Hodge's saloon and shothim. They've carried him to the drug-store and he's asked to speak toyou. "

I had the satisfaction of kicking that little cuss through the doorahead of me, though I knew it was myself I ought to have kicked. 

It was true that Joe had asked to speak to me, but when I reached thedrug-store the doctor wouldn't let me come into the back-room where helay, so I sat on a stool in the store. They'd turned all the peopleout, except four or five friends of Joe's; and the glass doors and thewindows were solid with flattened faces, some of them coloured by theblue and green lights so that it sickened me, and all staringhorribly. After about four years the doctor's assistant came out toget something from a shelf and I jumped at him, getting mighty littlesatisfaction, you can be sure. 

"It seems to be very serious indeed, " was all he would say. I knewthat for myself, because one of the men in the store had told me thatit was in the left side. 

Half-an-hour after this--by the clock--the young man came out againand called us in to carry Joe home. It was not more than a hundredyards to the old Lane place, and six of us, walking very slowly, carried him on a cot through the crowd. He was conscious, for hethanked us in a weakish whisper, when we lifted him carefully into hisown bed. Then the doctor sent us all out except the assistant, and wewent to the front porch and waited, hating the crowd that had lined upagainst the fence and about the gate. They looked like a lot ofbuzzards; I couldn't bear the sight of them, so I went back into thelittle hall and sat down near Joe's door. 

After a while the assistant opened the door, holding a glass pitcherin his hand. 

"Here, " he said, when he saw me, "will you fill this with cold waterfrom the well?"

I took it and hurried out to the kitchen, where four or five peoplewere sitting and glumly whispering around an old coloured woman, Joe'scook, who was crying and rocking herself in a chair. I hushed her upand told her to show me the pump. It was in an orchard behind thehouse, and was one of those old-fashioned things that sound like asiren whistle with the hiccups. 

It took me about five minutes to get the water up, and when I got backto Joe's room, a woman was there with the doctors. It was Miss Rainey. She had her hat off, her sleeves were rolled up and, though her facewas the whitest I ever saw, she was cool and steady. It was she whotook the water from me at the door. 

I heard low voices in the parlour, where a lamp was lit, and I went inthere. Mary was sitting on a sofa, with a handkerchief hard againsther eyes, and Hector was standing in the middle of the room, sayingover and over, "My God!" and shaking. I went to the sofa and sat byMary with my hand on her shoulder. 

"To think of it!" Hector moaned. "To think of its coming at such atime! To think of what it means to me!"

His mother spoke to him from behind her handkerchief: "You mustn't doit; you _can't_ Hector--oh, you can't, you _can't. _"

For answer he struck himself desperately across the forehead with thepalm of his hand. 

"What is it, " I asked, "that your mother wants you not to do?"

"She wants me to give up Trimmer--to refuse to make the nominatingspeech for him to-morrow. "

"You've _got_ to give him up!" cried his mother; and then went onwith reiterations as passionate as they were weak and broken inutterance. "You can't make the speech, you can't do it, you_can't--"_

"Then I'm done for!" he said. "Don't you see what a frightful blowthis pitiful, drunken folly of poor Joe's has dealt Trimmer'scandidaoy? Don't you see that they rely on me more than ever, _now_? Are you so blind you don't see that I am the only man whocan save Trimmer the nomination? If I go back on him now, he's donefor and I'm done for with him! It's my only chance!"

"No, no, " she sobbed, "you'll have other chances; you'll have plentyof chances, dear; you're young--"

"My only chance, " he went on rapidly, ignoring her, "and if I cancarry it through, it will mean everything to me. The tide's runningstrong against Trimmer to-night, and I am the only man in the worldwho can turn it the other way. If I go into the convention for him, faithful to him, and, out of the highest sense of justice, explainthat, even though Lane has been my closest friend, he was in the wrongand that--"

Mary rose to her feet and went to her son and clung to him. "No, no!"she cried; "no, _no_!"

"I've got to!" he said. 

"What is that you must do, Hector?" It was Miss Rainey's voice, andcame from just behind me. She was standing in the doorway that ledfrom the hall, and her eyes were glowing with a brilliant, warmlight. We all started as she spoke, and I sprang up and turned towardher. 

"He's going to get well, " she said, understanding me. "They say it issurely so!"

At that Mary ran and threw her arms about her and kissed her--and Icame near it! Hector gave a sort of shout of relief and sank into achair. 

"What is that you must do, Hector?" Miss Rainey said again in hersteady voice. 

"Stick to Trimmer!" he explained. "Don't you see that I must? He needsme now more than ever, and it's my only chance. "

Miss Rainey looked at him over Mary's shoulder. She looked at him along while before she spoke. "You know why Mr. Lane struck that blow?"

"Oh, I suppose so, " he answered uneasily. "At least Siffles--"

"Yes, " she said. "You know. What are you going to do?"

"The right thing!" Hector rose and walked toward her. "I put rightbefore all. I shall be loyal and I shall be just. It might have been aterribly hard thing to carry through, but, since dear old Joe willrecover, I know I can do it. "

The girl's eyes widened suddenly, while the warm glow in them flashedinto a fiery and profound scrutiny. 

"You are going to make the nominating speech, " she said. It was not aquestion but a declaration, in the tone of one to whom he stood whollyrevealed. 

"Yes, " he answered eagerly. "I knew you would see: it's my chance, mywhole career--"

But his mother, turning swiftly, put her hand over his mouth, thoughit was to Miss Rainey that she cried:

"Oh, don't let him say it--he can't; you mustn't let him!"

The girl drew her gently away and put an arm about her, saying: "Doyou think _I_ could stop him?"

"But do you wish to stop me?" asked Hector sadly, as he stepped towardher. "Do you set yourself not only in the way of my great chance, butagainst justice and truth? Don't you see that I must do it?"

"It is your chance--yes. I see the truth, Hector. " Her eyes hadfallen and she looked at him no more, but, with a little movement awayfrom him, offered her hand to him at arm's length. It was done in acurious way, and he looked perplexed for a second, and thenfrightened. He dropped her hand, and his lips twitched. 

"Laura, " he said, and could not go on. 

"You must go now, " she said to all three of us. "The house should bevery quiet. I shall be his nurse, and the doctor will stay allnight. Isn't it beautiful that Joe is going to get well!"

She went out quickly, before Hector could detain her, back to the roomwhere Lane was. 

 * * * * *

There's no need my telling you the details of that convention:Henderson was beaten from the start, and Hector's speech was all thathappened. If he hadn't made it, there might have been a consolidationon a dark horse, for feeling was high against Trimmer. It isn't aneasy thing to go into a convention with a brother locked up in jail ona charge of attempted murder!

I'll never forget Hector's rising to make that speech. There wasn'tany cheering, there was a dead, cold hush. This wasn't because hismagnetism had deserted him; indeed, I don't think it had ever beforebeen felt so strongly. He was white as white paper, and his face had alook of suffering; altogether I believe I couldn't give a betternotion of him than saying that he somehow made me think of Hamlet. 

He began in a very low but very penetrating voice, and I don't thinkanybody in the farthest corner missed a single clear-cut syllable fromthe first. As I may have indicated, I had never been a warm admirer ofhis, but with all my prejudice, I think I admired him when he stood upto his task that day. For the effect he intended, his speech was amasterpiece, no less. I saw it before he had finished threesentences. And he delivered it, knowing that even while he did so hewas losing the woman he loved; for Hector did love Laura Rainey, nextto himself, and she had been part of his life and necessary tohim. But though the heavens fell, he stuck to what he had set out todo, and did it masterfully. 

Not that what he said could bear the analysis of a cool mind: nothingthat Hector ever did or said has been able to do that. But for thepurpose, it was perfect. For once he began at the beginning, withoutrhetoric, and he made it all the more effective by beginning withhimself. 

"Doubtless there are many among you who think it strange to see merise to fulfil the charge with which you know me to be intrusted. Myoldest and most intimate friend lies wounded on a bed of suffering, stricken down by the hand of another friend whose heart is in thecause for which I have risen. Therefore, you might well question me;you might well say: 'To whom is your loyalty?' Well might I ask myselfthat same question. And I will give you my answer: 'There are thingsbeyond the personal friendship of man and man, things greater thanindividual differences and individual tragedies, things as far higherand greater than these as the skies of God are higher than the roof ofa child's doll-house. These higher things are the good of the Stateand the Law of Justice!'"

That brought the first applause; and Trimmer's people, seeing thecrowd had taken Hector's point, sprang to their feet and began tocheer. At a tense moment, such as this, cheering is often hypnotic, and good managers know how to make use of it on the floor. The noisegrew thunderous, and when it subsided Hector was master of theconvention. Then, for the first time, I saw how far he would go--andwhy. I had laughed at him all my life, but now I believed there was"something in him, " as they say. The Lord knows what, but it wasthere; and as I looked at him and listened it seemed to me that theworld was at his feet. 

He was infinitely daring, yet he skirted the cause of the quarrel withperfect tact: "The misinterpretation of a few careless and kindlywords, said in passing, and repeated, with garbling additions, to aman who was not himself. .. . The brooding of a mind most unhappilybeset with alcohol. .. . A blow resented by a too devoted but tooviolent kinsman. .. . "

Then, with the greatest skill, and rather quietly, he passed to aeulogium of Trimmer's public career, gradually increasing the warmthof his praise but controlling it as perfectly as he controlled theenthusiasm and excitement which followed each of his points. Formyself, I only looked away from him once, and caught a glimpse ofHenderson looking sick. 

Hector finished with a great stroke. He went back to the originaltheme. "You ask me where my duty lies!" His great voice rose and rangthrough the hall magnificently: "I reply--'first to my State and herneeds'! Is that answer enough? If it be necessary that I should answerfor my personal loyalty to one man or another then I ask _you_:Shall it go to the friend who, without cause, struck the first blow?Shall it go to that other friend who went out hot-headed and struckback to avenge a brother's wrongs? Is it only between these thatI--and many of you--are to choose to-day? Is there not a_third_?' I tell you that I have chosen, and that my loyalty andall my strength are devoted to that other, to that man who hassuffered most of all, to him who received a blow and did not avengeit, because in his greatness he knew that his assailant knew not whathe did!"

That carried them off their feet. Hector had turned Trimmer's greatestdanger into the means of victory. The Trimmer people led one of thoseextraordinary hysterical processions round the aisles that you seesometimes in a convention (a thing I never get used to), and it wasall Trimmer, or rather, it was all Hector. Trimmer was nominated onthe first ballot. 

There was a recess, and I hurried out, meaning to slip round to JoeLane's for a moment to find out how he was. I'd seen the doctor in themorning and he said his patient had passed a good night and that MissRainey was still there. "I think she's going to stay, " he added, andsmiled and shook hands with me. 

Joe's old darkey cook let me in, and, after a moment, came to say Imight go into Mr. Lane's room; Mr. Lane wanted to see me. 

Joe was lying very flat on his back, but with his face turned towardthe door, and beside him sat Laura Rainey, their thin hands claspedtogether. I stopped on the threshold with the door half opened. 

"Come in, " said Joe weakly. "Hector made it, I'm sure. "

"Yes, " I answered, and in earnest. "He's a great man. "

Joe's face quivered with a pain that did not come from his hurt. "Oh, it's knowing that, that makes me feel like such a scoundrel, " hesaid. "I suppose you've come to congratulate me. "

"Yes, " I said, "the doctor says it's a wonderful case, and that you'reone of the lucky ones with a charmed life, thank God!"

Joe smiled sadly at Miss Rainey. "He hasn't heard, " he said. Then shegave me her left hand, aot relinquishing Joe's with her right. 

"We were married this morning, " she said, "just after the conventionbegan. "

The tears came into Joe's eyes as she spoke. "It's a shame, isn'tit?" he said to me. "You must see it so. And I the kind of man I am, the town drunkard--"

Then his wife leaned over and kissed his forehead. 

"Even so it was right--and so beautiful for me, " she said. 

PART II

MRS. PROTHEROE

When Alonzo Tawson took his seat as the Senator from Stackpole in theupper branch of the General Assembly of the State, an expression ofpleasure and of greatness appeared to be permanently imprinted uponhis countenance. He felt that if he had not quite arrived at allwhich he meant to make his own, at least he had emerged upon the arenawhere he was to win it, and he looked about him for a few other strongspirits with whom to construct a focus of power which should controlthe senate. The young man had not long to look, for within a weekafter the beginning of the session these others showed themselves tohis view, rising above the general level of mediocrity and timidity, party-leaders and chiefs of faction, men who were on their feetcontinually, speaking half-a-dozen times a day, freely and loudly. Tothese, and that house at large, he felt it necessary to introducehimself by a speech which must prove him one of the elect, and heawaited impatiently an opening. 

Alonzo had no timidity himself. He was not one of those who first trytheir voices on motions to adjourn, written in form and handed out tonovices by presiding officers and leaders. He was too conscious of hisown gifts, and he had been "accustomed to speaking" ever since hisdays in the Stackpole City Seminary. He was under the impression, also, that his appearance alone would command attention from hiscolleagues and the gallery. He was tall; his hair was long, with arich waviness, rippling over both brow and collar, and he had, byyears of endeavour, succeeded in moulding his features to present anaspect of stern and thoughtful majesty whenever he "spoke. "

The opportunity to show his fellows that new greatness was among themdelayed not over-long, and Senator Rawson arose, long and bony in hisbest clothes, to address the senate with a huge voice in denunciationof the "Sunday Baseball Bill, " then upon second reading. The classicalreferences, which, as a born orator, he felt it necessary tointroduce, were received with acclamations which the gavel of theLieutenant-Governor had no power to still. 

"What led to the De-cline and Fall of the Roman Empire?" heexclaimed. "I await an answer from the advocates of this_de_-generate measure! I _demand_ an answer from them! Letme hear from them on _that_ subject! Why don't they speak up?They can't give one. Not because they ain't familiar with history, nosir! That's not the reason! It's because they _daren't, _ becausetheir answer would have to go on record _against_ 'em! Don't anyof you try to raise it against me that I ain't speakin' to the point, for I tell you that when you encourage Sunday Baseball, or any kind ofSabbath-breakin' on Sunday, you're tryin' to start this State on thedownward path that beset Rome! _I'll_ tell you what ruinedit. The Roman Empire started out to be the greatest nation on earth, and they had a good start, too, just like the United States has gotto-day. _Then_ what happened to 'em? Why, them old ancientfellers got more interested in athletic games and gladiatorial combatsand racing and all kinds of out-door sports, and bettin' on 'em, thanthey were in oratory, or literature, or charitable institutions andgood works of all kinds! At first they were moderate and the countrywas prosperous. But six days in the week wouldn't content 'em, andthey went at it all the time, so that at last they gave up the seventhday to their sports, the way this bill wants _us_ to do, and fromthat time on the result was _de_-generacy and _de_-gredation!You better remember _that_ lesson, my friends, and don't try tosink this State to the level of Rome!"

When Alonzo Rawson wiped his dampened brow, and dropped into hischair, he was satisfied to the core of his heart with the effect ofhis maiden effort. There was not one eye in the place that was notfixed upon him and shining with surprise and delight, while the kindlyLieutenant-Governor, his face very red, rapped for order. The youngsenator across the aisle leaned over and shook Alonzo's handexcitedly. 

"That was beautiful, Senator Rawson!" he wispered. "I'm _for_ thebill, but I can respect a masterly opponent. "

"I thank you, Senator Truslow, " Alonzo returned graciously. "I amglad to have your good opinion, Senator. "

"You have it, Senator, " said Truslow enthusiastically. "I hope youintend to speak often?"

"I do, Senator. I intend to make myself heard, " the other answeredgravely, "upon all questions of moment. "

"You will fill a great place among us, Senator!"

Then Alonzo Rawson wondered if he had not underestimated his neighbouracross the aisle; he had formed an opinion of Truslow as one of smallaccount and no power, for he had observed that, although this wasTruslow's second term, he had not once demanded recognition norattempted to take part in a debate. Instead, he seemed to spend mostof his time frittering over some desk work, though now and then hewalked up and down the aisles talking in a low voice to varioussenators. How such a man could have been elected at all, Alonzo failedto understand. Also, Truslow was physically inconsequent, in hiscolleague's estimation--"a little insignificant, dudish kind of aman, " he had thought; one whom he would have darkly suspected ofcigarettes had he not been dumbfounded to behold Truslow smoking anold black pipe in the lobby. The Senator from Stackpole had lookedover the other's clothes with a disapproval that amounted tobitterness. Truslow's attire reminded him of pictures in New Yorkmagazines, or the drees of boys newly home from college, he didn'tknow which, but he did know that it was contemptible. Consequently, after receiving the young man's congratulations, Alonzo was consciousof the keenest surprise at his own feeling that there might besomething in him after all. 

He decided to look him over again, more carefully to take the measureof one who had shown himself so frankly an admirer. Waiting, therefore, a few moments until he felt sure that Truslow's gaze hadceased to rest upon himself, he turned to bend a surreptitious butpiercing scrutiny upon his neighbour. His glance, however, sweepingacross Truslow's shoulder toward the face, suddenly encounteredanother pair of eyes beyond, so intently fixed upon himself that hestarted. The clash was like two search-lights meeting--and theglorious brown eyes that shot into Alonzo's were not the eyes ofTruslow. 

Truslow's desk was upon the outer aisle, and along the wall wereplaced comfortable leather chairs and settees, originally intended forthe use of members of the upper house, but nearly always occupied bytheir wives and daughters, or "lady-lobbyists, " or other womenspectators. Leaning back with extraordinary grace, in the chairnearest Truslow, sat the handsomest woman Alonzo had ever seen in hislife. Her long coat of soft grey fur was unrecognizable to him inconnection with any familiar breed of squirrel; her broad flat hat ofthe same fur was wound with a grey veil, underneath which her heavybrown hair seemed to exhale a mysterious glow, and never, not even ina lithograph, had he seen features so regular or a skin so clear! Andto look into her eyes seemed to Alonzo like diving deep into clearwater and turning to stare up at the light. 

His own eyes fell first. In the breathless awkwardness that beset himthey seemed to stumble shamefully down to his desk, like a country-boygetting back to his seat after a thrashing on the teacher'splatform. For the lady's gaze, profoundly liquid as it was, had notbeen friendly. 

Alonzo Rawson had neither the habit of petty analysis, nor theinclination toward it; yet there arose within him a wonder at his ownemotion, at its strangeness and the violent reaction of it. A momentago his soul had been steeped in satisfaction over the figure he hadcut with his speech and the extreme enthusiasm which had been accordedit--an extraordinarily pleasant feeling: suddenly this was gone, andin its place he found himself almost choking with a dazed sense ofhaving been scathed, and at the same time understood in a way in whichhe did not understand himself. And yet--he and this most unusual ladyhad been so mutually conscious of each other in their mysteriousinterchange that he felt almost acquainted with her. Why, then, shouldhis head be hot with resentment? Nobody had _said_ anything tohim!

He seized upon the fattest of the expensive books supplied to him bythe State, opened it with emphasis and began not to read it, withabysmal abstraction, tinglingly alert to the circumstance that Truslowwas holding a low-toned but lively conversation with the unknown. Herlaugh came to him, at once musical, quiet and of a quality whichirritated him into saying bitterly to himself that he guessed therewas just as much refinement in Stackpole as there was in the CapitalCity, and just as many old families! The clerk calling his vote uponthe "Baseball Bill" at that moment, he roared "No!" in a tone whichwas profane. It seemed to him that he was avenging himself uponsomebody for something and it gave him a great deal of satisfaction. 

He returned immediately to his imitation of Archimedes, only relaxingthe intensity of his attention to the text (which blurred into jargonbefore his fixed gaze) when he heard that light laugh again. He pursedhis lips, looked up at the ceiling as if slightly puzzled by someprofound question beyond the reach of womankind; solved it almostimmediately, and, setting his hand to pen and paper, wrote the capitalletter "O" several hundred times on note-paper furnished by theState. So oblivious was he, apparently, to everything but the questionof statecraft which occupied him, that he did not even look up whenthe morning's session was adjourned and the lawmakers began to passnoisily out, until Truslow stretched an arm across the aisle andtouched him upon the shoulder. 

"In a moment, Senator!" answered Alonzo in his deepest chest tones. Hemade it a very short moment, indeed, for he had a wild, breath-takingsuspicion of what was coming. 

"I want you to meet Mrs. Protheroe, Senator, " said Truslow, rising, asRawson, after folding his writings with infinite care, placed them inhis breast pocket. 

"I am pleased to make your acquaintance, ma'am, " Alonzo said in aloud, firm voice, as he got to his feet, though the place grew vagueabout him when the lady stretched a charming, slender, gloved hand tohim across Truslow's desk. He gave it several solemn shakes. 

"We shouldn't have disturbed you, perhaps?" she asked, smilingradiantly upon him. "You were at some important work, I'm afraid. "

He met her eyes again, and their beauty and the thoughtful kindlinessof them fairly took his breath. "I am the chairman, ma'am, " hereplied, swallowing, "of the committee on drains and dikes. "

"I knew it was something of great moment, " she said gravely, "but Iwas anxious to tell you that I was interested in your speech. "

A few minutes later, without knowing how he had got his hat and coatfrom the cloak-room, Alonzo Rawson found himself walking slowlythrough the marble vistas of the State house to the great outer doorswith the lady and Truslow. They were talking inconsequently of theweather, and of various legislators, but Alonzo did not know it. Hevaguely formed replies to her questions and he hardly realized whatthe questions were; he was too stirringly conscious of the rich quietof her voice and of the caress of the grey fur of her cloak when theback of his hand touched it--rather accidentally--now and then, asthey moved on together. 

It was a cold, quick air to which they emerged and Alonzo, daring tolook at her, found that she had pulled the veil down over her face, the colour of which, in the keen wind, was like that of June rosesseen through morning mists. At the curb a long, low, rakish blackmotor-car was in waiting, the driver a mere swaddled cylinder of fur. 

Truslow, opening the little door of the tonneau, offered his hand tothe lady. "Come over to the club, Senator, and lunch with me, " hesaid. "Mrs. Protheroe won't mind dropping us there on her way. "

That was an eerie ride for Alonzo, whose feet were falling uponstrange places. His pulses jumped and his eyes swam with the tears ofunlawful speed, but his big ungloved hand tingled not with the cold somuch as with the touch of that divine grey fur upon his little finger. 

"You intend to make many speeches, Mr. Truslow tells me, " he heardthe rich voice saying. 

"Yes ma'am, " he summoned himself to answer. "I expect I will. Yesma'am. " He paused, and then repeated, "Yes ma'am. "

She looked at him for a moment. "But you will do some work, too, won'tyou?" she asked slowly. 

Her intention in this passed by Alonzo at the time. "Yes ma'am, " heanswered. "The committee work interests me greatly, especially drainsand dikes. "

"I have heard, " she said, as if searching his opinion, "that almost asmuch is accomplished in the committee-rooms as on the floor?There--and in the lobby and in the hotels and clubs?"

"I don't have much to do with that!" he returned quickly. "I guessnone of them lobbyists will get much out of me! I even sent back alltheir railroad tickets. They needn't come near me!"

After a pause which she may have filled with unexpressed admiration, she ventured, almost timidly: "Do you remember that it was said thatNapoleon once attributed the secret of his power over other men to onequality?"

"I am an admirer of Napoleon, " returned the Senator from Stackpole. "Iadmire all great men. "

"He said that he held men by his reserve. "

"It can be done, " observed Alonzo, and stopped, feeling that it wasmore reserved to add nothing to the sentence. 

"But I suppose that such a policy, " she smiled upon him inquiringly, "wouldn't have helped him much with women?"

"No, " he agreed immediately. "My opinion is that a man ought to tell a_good_ woman everything. What is more sacred than--"

The car, turning a corner much too quickly, performed a gymnasticsquirm about an unexpected street-car and the speech ended in a gasp, as Alonzo, not of his own volition, half rose and pressed his cheekclosely against hers. Instantaneous as it was, his heart leapedviolently, but not with fear. Could all the things of his life thathad seemed beautiful have been compressed into one instant, it wouldnot have brought him even the suggestion of the wild shock of joy ofthat one, wherein he knew the glamorous perfume of Mrs. Protheroe'sbrown hair and felt her cold cheek firm against his, with only thegrey veil between. 

"I'm afraid this driver of mine will kill me some day, " she said, laughing and composedly straightening her hat. "Do you care for bigmachines?"

"Yes ma'am, " he answered huskily. "I haven't been in many. "

"Then I'll take you again, " said Mrs. Protheroe. "If you like I'llcome down to the State house and take you out for a run in thecountry. "

"When?" said the lost young man, staring at her with his mouthopen. "When?"

"Saturday afternoon if you like. I'll be there at two. "

They were in front of the club and Truslow had already jumpedout. Mrs. Protheroe gave him her hand and they exchanged a glancesignificant of something more than a friendly goodbye. Indeed, onemight have hazarded that there was something almost businesslike aboutit. The confused Senator from Stackpole, climbing out reluctantly, observed it not, nor could he have understood, even if he had seen, that delicate signal which passed between his two companions. 

When he was upon the ground Mrs. Protheroe extended her hand withoutspeaking, but her lips formed the word, "Saturday. " Then she wascarried away quickly, while Alonzo, his heart hammering, stood lookingafter her, born into a strange world, the touch of the grey fur uponhis little finger, the odour of her hair faintly about him, one sideof his face red, the other pale. 

"To-day is Wednesday, " he said, half aloud. 

"Come on, Senator. " Truslow took his arm and turned him toward theclub doors. 

The other looked upon his new friend vaguely. "Why, I forgot to thankher for the ride, " he exclaimed. 

"You'll have other chances, Senator, " Truslow assuredhim. "Mrs. Protheroe has a hobby for studying politics and she expectsto come down often. She has plenty of time--she's a widow, you know. "

"I hope you didn't think, " responded Alonzo indignantly, "that Ithought she was a married woman!"

After lunch they walked back to the State house together, Truslowregarding his thoughtful companion with sidelong whimsicalness. Mrs. Protheroe's question, suggestive of a difference between work andspeechmaking, had recurred to Alonzo, and he had determined to makehimself felt, off the floor as well as upon it. He set to this with afine energy, that afternoon, in his committee-room, and the Senatorfrom Stackpole knew his subject. On drains and dikes he had noequal. He spoke convincingly to his colleagues of the committee uponevery bill that was before them, and he compelled their humblestrespect. He went earnestly at it, indeed, and sat very late thatnight, in his room at a nearby boarding house, studying bills, tryingto keep his mind upon them and not to think of his strange morning andof Saturday. Finally his neighbour in the next room, Senator EzraTrumbull, long abed, was awakened by his praying and groanedslightly. Trumbull meant to speak to Rawson about his prayers, forTrumbull was an early one to bed and they woke him every night. Thepartition was flimsy and Alonzo addressed his Maker in the loud voiceof one accustomed to talking across wide out-of-door spaces. Trumbullconsidered it especially unnecessary in the city; though, as a citizenof a county which loved but little his neighbour's district, he feltthat in Stackpole there was good reason for a person to shout hisprayers at the top of his voice and even then have small chance tocarry through the distance. Still, it was a delicate matter tomention and he put it off from day to day. 

Thursday passed slowly for Alonzo Rawson, nor was his voice lifted indebate. There was little but routine; and the main interest of thechamber was in the lobbying that was being done upon the "SundayBaseball Bill" which had passed to its third reading and would come upfor final disposition within a fortnight. This was the measure whichAlonzo had set his heart upon defeating. It was a simple enough bill:it provided, in substance, that baseball might be played on Sunday byprofessionals in the State capital, which was proud of its leagueteam. Naturally, it was denounced by clergymen, and deputations ofministers and committees from women's religious societies wereconstantly arriving at the State house to protest against itspassage. The Senator from Stackpole reassured all of these with whomhe talked, and was one of their staunchest allies and supporters. Hewas active in leading the wavering among his colleagues, or even theinimical, out to meet and face the deputations. It was in thisoccupation that he was engaged, on Friday afternoon, when he receiveda shock. 

A committee of women from a church society was waiting in thecorridor, and he had rounded-up a reluctant half-dozen senators andled them forth to be interrogated as to their intentions regarding thebill. The committee and the lawmakers soon distributed themselves intolittle argumentative clumps, and Alonzo found himself in the centre ofthese, with one of the ladies who had unfortunately--but, in herenthusiasm, without misgivings--begun a reproachful appeal to anadvocate of the bill whose name was Goldstein. 

"Senator Goldstein, " she exclaimed, "I could not believe it when Iheard that you were in favour of this measure! I have heard my husbandspeak in the highest terms of your old father. May I ask you what_he_ thinks of it? If you voted for the desecration of Sunday bya low baseball game, could you dare go home and face that good oldman?"

"Yes, madam, " said Goldstein mildly; "we are _both_ Jews. "

A low laugh rippled out from near-by, and Alonzo, turning almostviolently, beheld his lady of the furs. She was leaning back against abroad pilaster, her hands sweeping the same big coat behind her, herface turned toward him, but her eyes, sparklingly delighted, restingupon Goldstein. Under the broad fur hat she made a picture asenraging, to Alonzo Rawson, as it was bewitching. She appeared not tosee him, to be quite unconscious of him--and he believed it. Truslowand five or six members of both houses were about her, and they allseemed to be bending eagerly toward her. Alonzo was furious with her. 

Her laugh lingered upon the air for a moment, then her glance sweptround the other way, omitting the Senator from Stackpole, who, immediately putting into practice a reserve which would haveastonished Napoleon, swung about and quitted the deputation without aword of farewell or explanation. He turned into the cloakroom andpaced the floor for three minutes with a malevolence which awed thecoloured attendants into not brushing his coat; but, when he returnedto the corridor, cautious inquiries addressed to the tobacconist, elicited the information that the handsome lady with Senator Truslowhad departed. 

Truslow himself had not gone. He was lounging in his seat when Alonzoreturned and was genially talkative. The latter refrained fromreplying in kind, not altogether out of reserve, but more because of adim suspicion (which rose within him, the third time Truslow calledhim "Senator" in one sentence) that his first opinion of the young manas a light-minded person might have been correct. 

There was no session the following afternoon, but Alonzo watched thestreet from the windows of his committee-room, which overlooked thesplendid breadth of stone steps leading down from the great doors tothe pavement. There were some big bookcases in the room, whose glassdoors served as mirrors in which he more and more sternly regarded thesoft image of an entirely new grey satin tie, while the convictiongrew within him that (arguing from her behaviour of the previous day)she would not come, and that the Stackpole girls were nobler by far atheart than many who might wear a king's-ransom's-worth of jewels roundtheir throats at the opera-house in a large city. This sentiment washeartily confirmed by the clock when it marked half-past two. He facedthe bookcase doors and struck his breast, his open hand falling acrossthe grey tie with tragic violence; after which, turning for the lasttime to the windows, he uttered a loud exclamation and, laying handsupon an ulster and a grey felt hat, each as new as the satin tie, ranhurriedly from the room. The black automobile was waiting. 

"I thought it possible you might see me from a window, " saidMrs. Protheroe as he opened the little door. 

"I was just coming out, " he returned, gasping for breath. "Ithought--from yesterday--you'd probably forgotten. "

"Why 'from yesterday'?" she asked. 

"I thought--I thought--" He faltered to a stop as the full, glorioussense of her presence overcame him. She wore the same veil. 

"You thought I did not see you yesterday in the corridor?"

"I thought you might have acted more--more--"

"More cordially?"

"Well, " he said, looking down at his hands, "more like you knew we'dbeen introduced. "

At that she sat silent, looking away from him, and he, daring a quickglance at her, found that he might let his eyes remain upon her face. That was a dangerous place for eyes to rest, yet Alonzo Rawson wasanxious for the risk. The car flew along the even asphalt on its wayto the country like a wild goose on a long slant of wind, and, withhis foolish fury melted inexplicably into honey, Alonzo looked ather--and looked at her--till he would have given an arm for anotherquick corner and a street-car to send his cheek against that veiled, cold cheek of hers again. It was not until they reached the alternatevacant lots and bleak Queen Anne cottages of the city's ragged edgethat she broke the silence. 

"You were talking to some one else, " she said almost inaudibly. 

"Yes ma'am, Goldstein, but--"

"Oh, no!" She turned toward him, lifting her hand. "You were quite thelion among ladies. "

"I don't know what you mean, Mrs. Protheroe, " he said, truthfully. 

"What were you talking to all those women about?"

"It was about the 'Sunday Baseball Bill. '"

"Ah! The bill you attacked in your speech, last Wednesday?"

"Yes ma'am. "

"I hear you haven't made any speeches since then, " she saidindifferently. 

"No ma'am, " he answered gently. "I kind of got the idea that I'dbetter lay low for a while at first, and get in some quiet hard work. "

"I understand. You are a man of intensely reserved nature. "

"With men, " said Alonzo, "I am. With ladies I am not so much so. Ithink a good woman ought to be told--"

"But you are interested, " she interrupted, "in defeating that bill?"

"Yes ma'am, " he returned. "It is an iniquitous measure. "

"Why?"

"Mrs. Protheroe!" he exclaimed, taken aback. "I thought all theladies were against it. My own mother wrote to me from Stackpole thatshe'd rather see me in my grave than votin' for such a bill, and I'drather see myself there!"

"But are you sure that you understand it?"

"I only know it desecrates the Sabbath. That's enough for me!"

She leaned toward him and his breath came quickly. 

"No. You're wrong, " she said, and rested the tips of her fingers uponhis sleeve. 

"I don't understand why--why you say that, " he faltered. "It soundskind of--surprising to me--"

"Listen, " she said. "Perhaps Mr. Truslow told you that I am studyingsuch things. I do not want to be an idle woman; I want to be of use tothe world, even if it must be only in small ways. "

"I think that is a noble ambition!" he exclaimed. "I think all goodwomen ought--"

"Wait, " she interrupted gently. "Now, that bill is a worthy one, though it astonishes you to hear me say so. Perhaps you don'tunderstand the conditions. Sunday is the labouring-man's only day ofrecreation--and what recreation is he offered?"

"He ought to go to church, " said Alonzo promptly. 

"But the fact is that he doesn't--not often--not at _all_ in theafternoon. Wouldn't it be well to give him some wholesome way ofemploying his Sunday afternoons? This bill provides for just that, andit keeps him away from drinking too, for it forbids the sale of liquoron the grounds. "

"Yes, I know, " said Alonzo plaintively. "But it ain't _right_! Iwas raised to respect the Sabbath and--"

"Ah, that's what you should do! You think _I_ could believe inanything that wouldn't make it better and more sacred?"

"Oh, no, ma'am!" he cried reproachfully. "It's only that I don'tsee--"

"I am telling you. " She lifted her veil and let him have the fulldazzle of her beauty. "Do you know that many thousands of labouringpeople spend their Sundays drinking and carousing about the lowcountry road-houses because the game is played at such places onSunday? They go there because they never get a chance to see it playedin the city. And don't you understand that there would be no Sundayliquor trade, no working-men poisoning themselves every seventh day inthe low groggeries, as hundreds of them do now, if they had somethingto see that would interest them?--something as wholesome and fine asthis sport would be, under the conditions of this bill; something tokeep them in the open air, something to bring a little gaiety intotheir dull lives!" Her voice had grown louder and it shook a little, with a rising emotion, though its sweetness was only the morepoignant. "Oh, my dear Senator, " she cried, "don't you _see_ howwrong you are? Don't you want to _help_ these poor people?"

Her fingers, which had tightened upon his sleeve, relaxed and sheleaned back, pulling the veil down over her face as if wishing toconceal from him that her lips trembled slightly; then resting her armupon the leather cushions, she turned her head away from him, staringfixedly into the gaunt beech woods, lining the country road alongwhich they were now coursing. For a time she heard nothing from him, and the only sound was the monotonous chug of the machine. 

"I suppose you think it rather shocking to hear a woman talkingpractically of such common-place things, " she said at last, in a coldvoice, just loud enough to be heard. 

"No ma'am, " he said huskily. 

"Then what _do_ you think?" she cried, turning toward him againwith a quick imperious gesture. 

"I think I'd better go back to Stackpole, " he answered very slowly, "and resign my job. I don't see as I've got any business in theLegislature. "

"I don't understand you. "

He shook his head mournfully. "It's a simple enough matter. I'vestudied out a good many bills and talked 'em over and I've picked upsome influence and--"

"I know you have. " she interrupted eagerly. "Mr. Truslow says thatthe members of your drains and dikes committee follow your vote onevery bill. "

"Yes ma'am, " said Alonzo Rawson meekly, "but I expect they oughtn'tto. I've had a lesson this afternoon. "

"You mean to say--"

"I mean that I didn't know what I was doing about that baseballbill. I was just pig-headedly goin' ahead against it, not knowingnothing about the conditions, and it took a lady to show me what theywere. I would have done a wrong thing if you hadn't stopped me. "

"You mean, " she cried, her splendid eyes widening with excitement anddelight; "you mean that you---that you--"

"I mean that I will vote for the bill!" He struck his clenched fistupon his knee. "I come to the Legislature to do _right_!"

"You will, ah, you _will_ do right in this!" Mrs. Protheroethrust up her veil again and her face was flushed and radiant withtriumph. "And you'll work, and you'll make a speech for the bill?"

At this the righteous exaltation began rather abruptly to simmer downin the soul of Alonzo Rawson. He saw the consequences of too violentlyreversing, and knew how difficult they might be to face. 

"Well, not--not exactly, " he said weakly. "I expect our best planwould be for me to lay kind of low and not say any more about the billat all. Of course, I'll quit workin' against it; and on the roll-callI'll edge up close to the clerk and say 'Aye' so that only him'll hearme. That's done every day--and I--well, I don't just exactly like tocome out too publicly for it, after my speech and all I've doneagainst it. "

She looked at him sharply for a short second, and then offered him herhand and said: "Let's shake hands _now_, on the vote. Think whata triumph it is for me to know that I helped to show you the right. "

"Yes ma'am, " he answered confusedly, too much occupied with shakingher hand to know what he said. She spoke one word in an undertone tothe driver and the machine took the very shortest way back to thecity. 

After this excursion, several days passed, before Mrs. Protheroe cameto the State house again. Rawson was bending over the desk of SenatorJosephus Battle, the white-bearded leader of the opposition to the"Sunday Baseball Bill, " and was explaining to him the intricacies of acertain drainage measure, when Battle, whose attention had wandered, plucked his sleeve and whispered:

"If you want to see a mighty pretty woman that's doin' no good here, look behind you, over there in the chair by the big fireplace at theback of the room. "

Alonzo looked. 

It was she whose counterpart had been in his dream's eye every momentof the dragging days which had been vacant of her living presence. Anumber of his colleagues were hanging over her almost idiotically; herface was gay and her voice came to his ears, as he turned, with theaccent of her cadenced laughter running through her talk like a chimeof tiny bells flitting through a strain of music. 

"This is the third time she's been here, " said Battle, rubbing hisbeard the wrong way. "She's lobbyin' for that infernal Sabbath-Desecration bill, but we'll beat her, my son. "

"Have you made her acquaintance, Senator?" asked Alonzo stiffly. 

"No, sir, and I don't want to. But I knew her father--the slickest oldbeat and the smoothest talker that ever waltzed up the pike. Shemarried rich; her husband left her a lot of real estate around here, but she spends most of her time away. Whatever struck her to come downand lobby for that bill I don't know _yet_--but I will! Truslow'shelping her to help himself; he's got stock in the company that runsthe baseball team, but what she's up to--well, I'll bet there's anigger in the woodpile _some_where!"

"I expect there's a lot of talk like that!" said Alonzo, red withanger, and taking up his papers abruptly. 

"Yes, _sir_!" said Battle emphatically, utterly misunderstandingthe other's tone and manner. "Don't you worry, my son. We'll killthat venomous bill right here in this chamber! We'll kill it so deadthat it won't make one flop after the axe hits it. You and me and someothers'll tend to _that_! Let her work that pretty face and thoseeyes of hers all she wants to! I'm keepin' a little lookout, too--andI'll--"

He broke off, for the angry and perturbed Alonzo had left him and goneto his own desk. Battle, slightly surprised, rubbed his beard thewrong way and sauntered out to the lobby to muse over a cigar. Alonzo, loathing Battle with a great loathing, formed bitter phrasesconcerning that vicious-minded old gentleman, while for a moment heaffected to be setting his desk in order. Then he walked slowly up theaisle, conscious of a roaring in his ears (though not aware how redthey were) as he approached the semicircle about her. 

He paused within three feet of her in a sudden panic of timidity, andthen, to his consternation, she looked him squarely in the face, overthe shoulders of two of the group, and the only sign of recognitionthat she exhibited was a slight frown of unmistakable repulsion, whichappeared between her handsome eyebrows. 

It was very swift; only Alonzo saw it; the others had no eyes foranything but her, and were not aware of his presence behind them, forshe did not even pause in what she was saying. 

Alonzo walked slowly away with the wormwood in his heart. He had notgrown up among the young people of Stackpole without similarexperiences, but it had been his youthful boast that no girl had ever"stopped speaking" to him without reason, or "cut a dance" with himand afterward found opportunity to repeat the indignity. 

"What have I _done_ to _her?_" was perhaps the hottest cryof his soul, for the mystery was as great as the sting of it. 

It was no balm upon that sting to see her pass him at the top of theouter steps, half an hour later, on the arm of that one of hiscolleagues who had been called the "best-dressed man in theLegislature. " She swept by him without a sign, laughing that samelaugh at some sally of her escort, and they got into the blackautomobile together and were whirled away and out of sight by theimpassive bundle of furs that manipulated the wheel. 

For the rest of that afternoon and the whole of that night no man, woman, or child heard the voice of Alonzo Rawson, for he spoke tonone. He came not to the evening meal, nor was he seen by any who hadhis acquaintance. He entered his room at about midnight, and Trumbullwas awakened by his neighbour's overturning a chair. No match wasstruck, however, and Trumbull was relieved to think that the Senatorfrom Stackpole intended going directly to bed without troubling tolight the gas, and that his prayers would soon be over. Such was notthe case, for no other sound came from the room, nor were Alonzo'sprayers uttered that night, though the unhappy statesman in the nextapartment could not get to sleep for several hours on account of hisnervous expectancy of them. 

After this, as the day approached upon which hung the fate of the billwhich Mr. Josephus Battle was fighting, Mrs. Protheroe came to theSenate Chamber nearly every morning and afternoon. Not once did sheappear to be conscious of Alonzo Rawson's presence, nor once did heallow his eyes to delay upon her, though it cannot be truthfully saidthat he did not always know when she came, when she left, and withwhom she stood or sat or talked. He evaded all mention or discussionof the bill or of Mrs. Protheroe; avoided Truslow (who, strangelyenough, was avoiding _him_) and, spending upon drains and dikesall the energy that he could manage to concentrate, burned themidnight oil and rubbed salt into his wounds to such marked effectthat by the evening of the Governor's Reception--upon the morningfollowing which the mooted bill was to come up--he offered animpression so haggard and worn that an actor might have studied himfor a makeup as a young statesman going into a decline. 

Nevertheless, he dressed with great care and bitterness, and placedthe fragrant blossom of a geranium--taken from a plant belonging tohis landlady--in the lapel of his long coat before he set out. 

And yet, when he came down the Governor's broad stairs, and wanderedthrough the big rooms, with the glare of lights above him and theshouting of the guests ringing in his ears, a sense of emptiness besethim; the crowded place seemed vacant and without meaning. Even thenoise sounded hollow and remote--and why had he bothered about thegeranium? He hated her and would never look at her again--but why wasshe not there?

By-and-by, he found himself standing against a wall, where he had beenpushed by the press of people. He was wondering drearily what he wasto do with a clean plate and a napkin which a courteous negro hadhanded him, half-an-hour earlier, when he felt a quick jerk at hissleeve. It was Truslow, who had worked his way along the wall and whonow, standing on tiptoe, spoke rapidly but cautiously, close to hisear. 

"Senator, be quick, " he said sharply, at the same time alert to seethat they were unobserved. "Mrs. Protheroe wants to speak to you atonce. You'll find her near the big palms under the stairway in thehall. "

He was gone--he had wormed his way half across the room--before theother, in his simple amazement could answer. When Alonzo at last founda word, it was only a monosyllable, which, with his accompanyingaction, left a matron of years, who was at that moment being pressedfondly to his side, in a state of mind almost as dumbfounded as hisown. "_Here!_" was all he said as he pressed the plate and napkininto her hand and departed forcibly for the hall, leaving aspectacular wreckage of trains behind him. 

The upward flight of the stairway left a space underneath, upon which, as it was screened (save for a narrow entrance) by a thicket of palms, the crowd had not encroached. Here were placed a divan and a couple ofchairs; there was shade from the glare of gas, and the light was dimand cool. Mrs. Protheroe had risen from the divan when Alonzo enteredthis grotto, and stood waiting for him. 

He stopped in the green entrance-way with a quick exclamation. 

She did not seem the same woman who had put such slights upon him, this tall, white vision of silk, with the summery scarf falling fromher shoulders. His great wrath melted at the sight of her; the pain ofhis racked pride, which had been so hot in his breast, gave way to aspecies of fear. She seemed not a human being, but a bright spirit ofbeauty and goodness who stood before him, extending two fine arms tohim in long, white gloves. 

She left him to his trance for a moment, then seized both his hands inhers and cried to him in her rapturous, low voice: "Ah, Senator, youhave come! I _knew_ you understood!"

"Yes ma'am, " he whispered chokily. 

She drew him to one of the chairs and sank gracefully down upon thedivan near him. 

"Mr. Truslow was so afraid you wouldn't, " she went on rapidly, "but Iwas sure. You see I didn't want anybody to suspect that I had anyinfluence with you. I didn't want them to know, even, that I'd talkedto you. It all came to me after the first day that we met. You seeI've believed in you, in your power and in your reserve, from thefirst. I want all that you do to seem to come from yourself and notfrom me or any one else. Oh, I _believe_ in great, strong men whostand upon their own feet and conquer the world for themselves! That's_your_ way, Senator Rawson. So, you see, as they think I'mlobbying for the bill, I wanted them to believe that your speech forit to-morrow comes from your own great, strong mind and heart and yoursense of right, and not from any suggestion of mine. "

"My speech!" he stammered. 

"Oh, I know, " she cried; "I know you think I don't believe much inspeeches, and I don't ordinarily, but a few, simple, straightforwardand vigorous words from you, to-morrow, may carry the bill through. You've made such _progress_, you've been so _reserved_, that you'llcarry great weight--and there are three votes of the drains and dikesthat are against us now, but will follow yours absolutely. Do youthink I would have 'cut' _you_ if it hadn't been _best_?"

"But I--"

"Oh, I know you didn't actually promise me to speak, that day. But Iknew you would when the time came! I knew that a man of power goesover _all_ obstacles, once his sense of _right_ is aroused!I _knew_--I never doubted it, that once _you_ felt a thingto be right you would strike for it, with all your great strength--atall costs--at all--"

"I can't--I--I--can't!" he whispered nervously. "Don't you see--don'tyou see--I--"

She leaned toward him, lifting her face close to his. She was so nearhim that the faint odour of her hair came to him again, and once morethe unfortunate Senator from Stackpole risked a meeting of his eyeswith hers, and saw the light shining far down in their depths. 

At this moment the shadow of a portly man who was stroking his beardthe wrong way projected itself upon them from the narrow, greenentrance to the grotto. Neither of them perceived it. 

Senator Josephus Battle passed on, but when Alonzo Rawson emerged, afew moments later, he was pledged to utter a few simple, straightforward and vigorous words in favour of the bill. And--let theshame fall upon the head of the scribe who tells it--he had kissedMrs. Protheroe!

The fight upon the "Sunday Baseball Bill, " the next morning, was thewarmest of that part of the session, though for a while the reporterswere disappointed. They were waiting for Senator Battle, who wasfamous among them for the vituperative vigour of his attacks and forthe kind of personalities which made valuable copy. And yet, until thedebate was almost over, he contented himself with going quietly up anddown the aisles, whispering to the occupants of the desks, and writingand sending a multitude of notes to his colleagues. Meanwhile, theorators upon both sides harangued their fellows, the lobby, theunpolitical audience, and the patient presiding officer to no effect, so far as votes went. The general impression was that the bill wouldpass. 

Alonzo Rawson sat, bent over his desk, his eyes fixed with gentlesteadiness upon Mrs. Protheroe, who occupied the chair wherein he hadfirst seen her. A senator of the opposition was finishing hisdenunciation, when she turned and nodded almost imperceptibly to theyoung man. 

He gave her one last look of pathetic tenderness and rose. 

"The Senator from Stackpole!"

"I want, " Alonzo began, in his big voice: "I want to say a few simple, straightforward but vigorous words about this bill. You may remember Ispoke against it on its second reading--"

"You did _that_!" shouted Senator Battle suddenly. 

"I want to say now, " the Senator from Stackpole continued, "that atthat time I hadn't studied the subject sufficiently. I didn't know theconditions of the case, nor the facts, but since then a great lighthas broke in upon me--"

"I should say it had! I saw it break!" was Senator Battle's secondviolent interruption. 

When order was restored, Alonzo, who had become very pale, summonedhis voice again. "I think we'd ought to take into consideration thatSunday is the working-man's only day of recreation and not drive himinto low groggeries, but give him a chance in the open air to indulgehis love of wholesome sport--"

"Such as the ancient Romans enjoyed!" interposed Battle vindictively. 

"No, sir!" Alonzo wheeled upon him, stung to the quick. "Such a sportas free-born Americans and _only_ free-born Americans can play inthis, wide world--the American game of baseball, in which no othernation of the _Earth_ is our equal!"

This was a point scored and the cheering lasted two minutes. Then theorator resumed:

"I say: 'Give the working-man a chance!' Is his life a happy one? Youknow it ain't! Give him his one day. _Don't_ spoil it for him withyour laws--he's only got one! I'm not goin' to take up any more ofyour time, but if there's anybody here who thinks my well-consideredopinion worth following I say: '_Vote for this bill_. ' It is right andvirtuous and ennobling, and it ought to be passed! I say: '_Vote forit_. '"

The reporters decided that the Senator from Stackpole had "wakenedthings up. " The gavel rapped a long time before the chamber quieteddown, and when it did, Josephus Battle was on his feet and hadobtained the recognition of the chair. 

"I wish to say, right here, " he began, with a rasping leisureliness, "that I hope no member of this honoured body will take my remarks aspersonal or unparliamentary--_but_"--he raised a big forefinger andshook it with menace at the presiding officer, at the same timesuddenly lifting his voice to an unprintable shriek--"I say to _you_, sir, that the song of the siren has been _heard_ in the land, and thecall of Delilah has been answered! When the Senator from Stackpolerose in this chamber, less than three weeks ago, and denounced thisiniquitous measure, I heard him with pleasure--we _all_ heard him withpleasure--_and_ respect! In spite of his youth and the poor quality ofhis expression, _we_ listened to him. _We_ knew he was sencere! Whathas caused the change in him? What _has_, I ask? I shall not tell you, upon this floor, but I've taken mighty good care to let most of youknow, during the morning, either by word of mouth or by _note_ ofhand! Especially those of you of the drains and dikes and others whomight follow this young Samson, whose locks have been shore! _I've_told you all about that, and more--_I've_ told you the _inside_history of some _facts_ about the bill that I will not make public, because I am too confident of our strength to defeat this devilishmeasure, and prefer to let our vote speak our opinion of it! Let menot detain you longer. _I_ thank you!"

Long before he had finished, the Senator from Stackpole was being helddown in his chair by Truslow and several senators whose seats wereadjacent; and the vote was taken amid an uproar of shouting andconfusion. When the clerk managed to proclaim the result over allother noises, the bill was shown to be defeated and "killed, " by amajority of five votes. 

A few minutes later, Alonzo Rawson, his neckwear disordered and hisface white with rage, stumbled out of the great doors upon the trailof Battle, who had quietly hurried away to his hotel for lunch as soonas he had voted. 

The black automobile was vanishing round a corner. Truslow stood uponthe edge of the pavement staring after it ruefully:

"Where is Mrs. Protheroe?" gasped the Senator from Stackpole. 

"She's gone, " said the other. 

"Gone where?"

"Gone back to Paris. She sails day after tomorrow. She just had timeenough to catch her train for New York after waiting to hear how thevote went. She told me to tell you good-bye, and that she wassorry. Don't stare at me Rawson! I guess we're in the sameboat!--Where are you going?" he finished abruptly. 

Alonzo swung by him and started across the street. "To find Battle!"the hoarse answer came back. 

The conquering Josephus was leaning meditatively upon the counter ofthe cigar-stand of his hotel when Alonzo found him. He took one lookat the latter's face and backed to the wall, tightening his grasp uponthe heavy-headed ebony cane it was his habit to carry, a habit uponwhich he now congratulated himself. 

But his precautions were needless. Alonzo stopped out of reachingdistance. 

"You tell me, " he said in a breaking voice; "you tell me what youmeant about Delilah and sirens and Samsons and inside facts! You tellme!"

"You wild ass of the prairies, " said Battle, "I saw you last nightbehind them pa'ms! But don't you think I told it--or ever will! I justpassed the word around that she'd argued you into her way of thinkin', same as she had a good many others. And as for the rest of it, Ifound out where the mgger in the woodpile was, and I handed that out, too. Don't you take it hard, my son, but I told you her husband lefther a good deal of land around here. She owns the ground that they usefor the baseball park, and her lease would be worth considerable moreif they could have got the right to play on Sundays!"

Senator Trumbull sat up straight, in bed, that night, and, for thefirst time during his martyrdom, listened with no impatience to theprayer which fell upon his ears. 

"O, Lord Almighty, " through the flimsy partition came the voice ofAlonzo Rawson, quaveringly, but with growing strength: "Aid Thou me tosee my way more clear! I find it hard to tell right from wrong, and Ifind myself beset with tangled wires. O God, I feel that I amignorant, and fall into many devices. These are strange paths whereinThou hast set my feet, but I feel that through Thy help, and throughgreat anguish, I am learning!"

GREAT MEN'S SONS

Mme. Bernhardt and M. Coquelin were playing "L'Aiglon. " Toward the endof the second act people began to slide down in their seats, shifttheir elbows, or casually rub their eyes; by the close of the third, most of the taller gentlemen were sitting on the small of their backswith their knees as high as decorum permitted, and many were openlycoughing; but when the fourth came to an end, active resistanceceased, hopelessness prevailed, the attitudes were those of thestricken field, and the over-crowded house was like a college chapelduring an interminable compulsory lecture. Here and there--but mostrarely--one saw an eager woman with bright eyes, head bent forward andbody spellbound, still enchantedly following the course of the play. Between the acts the orchestra pattered ragtime and inanities from thenew comic operas, while the audience in general took some heart. Whenthe play was over, we were all enthusiastic; though our admiration, however vehement in the words employed to express it, was somewhatsubdued as to the accompanying manner, which consisted, mainly, ofsighs and resigned murmurs. In the lobby a thin old man with agrizzled chin-beard dropped his hand lightly on my shoulder, andgreeted me in a tone of plaintive inquiry:

"Well, son?"

Turning, I recognized a patron of my early youth, in whose woodshed Ihad smoked my first cigar, an old friend whom I had not seen foryears; and to find him there, with his long, dust-coloured coat, hisblack string tie and rusty hat brushed on every side by opera cloaksand feathers, was a rich surprise, warming the cockles of myheart. His name is Tom Martin; he lives in a small country town, wherehe commands the trade in Dry Goods and Men's Clothing; his speech ispitched in a high key, is very slow, sometimes whines faintly; and healways calls me "Son. "

"What in the world!" I exclaimed, as we shook hands. 

"Well, " he drawled, "I dunno why I shouldn't be as meetropolitan asanybody. I come over on the afternoon accommodation for the show. Let's you and me make a night of it. What say, son?"

"What did you think of the play?" I asked, as we turned up the streettoward the club. 

"I think they done it about as well as they could. "

"That all?"

"Well, " he rejoined with solemnity, "there was a heap _of_ it, wasn't there!"

We talked of other things, then, until such time as we found ourselvesseated by a small table at the club, old Tom somewhat uneasilyregarding a twisted cigar he was smoking and plainly confounded by the"carbonated" syphon, for which, indeed, he had no use in the world. We had been joined by little Fiderson, the youngest member of theclub, whose whole nervous person jerkily sparkled "L'Aiglon"enthusiasm. 

"Such an evening!" he cried, in his little spiky voice. "Mr. Martin, it does one good to realize that our country towns are sendingrepresentatives to us when we have such things; that they wish to getin touch with what is greatest in Art. They should do it often. Tothink that a journey of only seventy miles brings into your life themagnificence of Rostand's point of view made living fire by the geniusof a Bernhardt and a Coquelin!"

"Yes, " said Mr. Martin, with a curious helplessness, after an ensuingpause, which I refused to break, "yes, sir, they seemed to be doing itabout as well as they could. "

Fiderson gasped slightly. "It was magnificent! Those two greatartists! But over all the play--the play! Romance new-born; poesymarching with victorious banners; a great spirit breathing! Like'Cyrano'--the birth-mark of immortality on this work!"

There was another pause, after which old Tom turned slowly to me, andsaid: "Homer Tibbs's opened up a cigar-stand at the deepo. Carries aline of candy, magazines, and fruit, too. Home's a hustler. "

Fiderson passed his hand through his hair. 

"That death scene!" he exclaimed at me, giving Martin up as a logaccidentally rolled in from the woods. "I thought that after 'Wagram'I could feel nothing more; emotion was exhausted; but then came thatmagnificent death! It was tragedy made ecstatic; pathos made intomusic; the grandeur of a gentle spirit, conquered physically butmorally unconquerable! Goethe's 'More Light' outshone!"

Old Tom's eyes followed the smoke of his perplexing cigar along itsheavy strata in the still air of the room, as he inquired if Iremembered Orlando T. Bickner's boy, Mel. I had never heard of him, and said so. 

"No, I expect not, " rejoined Martin. "Prob'ly you wouldn't; Bicknerwas Governor along in _my_ early days, and I reckon he ain'thardly more than jest a name to you two. But _we_ kind of thoughthe was the biggest man this country had ever seen, or was goin' tosee, and he _was_ a big man. He made one president, and couldhave been it himself, instead, if he'd be'n willing to do a kind ofunderhand trick, but I expect without it he was about as big a man asanybody'd care to be; Governor, Senator, Secretary of State--and justowned his party! And, my law!--the whole earth bowin' down to him;torchlight processions and sky-rockets when he come home in the night;bands and cannon if his train got in, daytime; home-folks so proud ofhim they couldn't see; everybody's hat off; and all the most importantmen in the country following at his heels--a country, too, that'd putup consider'ble of a comparison with everything Napoleon had when he'dlicked 'em all, over there. 

"Of course he had enemies, and, of course, year by year, they got tobe more of 'em, and they finally downed him for good; and like otherpublic men so fixed, he didn't live long after that. He had a son, Melville, mighty likable young fellow, studyin' law when his pawdied. I was livin' in their town then, and I knowed Mel Bickner prettywell; he was consider'ble of a man. 

"I don't know as I ever heard him speak of that's bein' the reason, but I expect it may've be'n partly in the hope of carryin' out some ofhis paw's notions, Mel tried hard to git into politics; but the oldman's local enemies jumped on every move he made, and his friendswouldn't help any; you can't tell why, except that it generally_is_ thataway. Folks always like to laugh at a great man's sonand say _he_ can't amount to anything. Of course that comespartly from fellows like that ornery little cuss we saw to-night, thinkin' they're a good deal because somebody else done something, andthe somebody else happened to be their paw; and the women run after'em, and they git low-down like he was, and so on. "

"Mr. Martin, " interrupted Fiderson, with indignation, "will you kindlyinform me in what way 'L'Aiglon' was 'low-down'?"

"Well, sir, didn't that huntin'-lodge appointment kind of put you inmind of a camp-meetin' scandal?" returned old Tom quietly. "It didme. "

"But--"

"Well, sir, I can't say as I understood the French of it, but I readthe book in English before I come up, and it seemed to me he waspretty much of a low-down boy; yet I wanted to see how they'd make himout; hearin' it was, thought, the country over, to be such a great_play_; though to tell the truth all I could tell about_that_ was that every line seemed to end in 'awze'; and 't theyall talked in rhyme, and it did strike me as kind of enervatin' to beexpected to believe that people could keep it up that long; and thatit wasn't only the boy that never quit on the subject of himself andhis folks, but pretty near any of 'em, if he'd git the chanst, did thesame thing, so't almost I sort of wondered if Rostand wasn't thatkind. "

"Go on with Melville Bickner, " said I. 

"What do you expect, " retorted Mr. Martin with a vindictive gleam inhis eye, "when you give a man one of these here spiral staircasecigars? Old Peter himself couldn't keep straight along one subject ifhe tackled a cigar like this. Well, sir, I always thought Mel had amighty mean time of it. He had to take care of his mother and twosisters, his little brother and an aunt that lived with them; andthere was mighty little to do it on; big men don't usually leave muchbut debts, and in this country, of course, a man can't eat and spendlong on his paw's reputation, like that little Dook of Reishtod--"

"I beg to tell you, Mr. Martin--" Fiderson began hotly. 

Martin waved his bony hand soothingly. 

"Oh, I know; they was money in his mother's family, and they give himhis vittles and clothes, and plenty, too. _His_ paw didn't leavemuch either--though he'd stole more than Boss Tweed. I suppose--and, just lookin' at things from the point of what they'd _earned_, his maw's folks had stole a good deal, too; or else you can say theywere a kind of public charity; old Metternich, by what I can learn, bein' the only one in the whole possetucky of 'em that really_did_ anything to deserve his salary--" Mr. Martin broke offsuddenly, observing that I was about to speak, and continued:

"Mel didn't git much law practice, jest about enough to keep the housegoin' and pay taxes. He kept workin' for the party jest the same andjest as cheerfully as if it didn't turn him down hard every time hetried to git anything for himself. They lived some ways out from town;and he sold the horses to keep the little brother in school, onewinter, and used to walk in to his office and out again, twice a day, over the worst roads in the State, rain or shine, snow, sleet, orwind, without any overcoat; and he got kind of a skimpy, froze-up lookto him that lasted clean through summer. He worked like a mule, thatboy did, jest barely makin' ends meet. He had to quit runnin' with thegirls and goin' to parties and everything like that; and I expect itmay have been some hard to do; for if they ever _was_ a boy lovedto dance and be gay, and up to anything in the line of fun andjunketin' round, it was Mel Bickner. He had a laugh I can hearyet--made you feel friendly to everybody you saw; feel like stoppin'the next man you met and shakin' hands and havin' a joke with him. 

"Mel was engaged to Jane Grandis when Governor Bickner died. He had togo and tell her to take somebody else--it was the only thing to do. Hecouldn't give Jane anything but his poverty, and she wasn't used toit. They say she offered to come to him anyway, but he wouldn't hearof it, and no more would he let her wait for him; told her she mustn'tgrow into an old maid, lonely, and still waitin' for the lightning tostrike him--that is, his luck to come; and actually advised her totake 'Gene Callender, who'd be'n pressin' pretty close to Mel for herbefore the engagement. The boy didn't talk to her this way with tearsin his eyes and mourning and groaning. No, sir! It was done_cheerful_; and so much so that Jane never _was_ quite sureafterwerds whether Mel wasn't kind of glad to git rid of her ornot. Fact is, they say she quit speakin' to him. Mel _knowed_; astate of puzzlement or even a good _mad's_ a mighty sight betterthan bein' all harrowed up and grief-stricken. And he never giveher--nor any one else--a chanst to be sorry for him. His maw was theonly one heard him walk the floor nights, and after he found, out shecould hear him he walked in his socks. 

"Yes, sir! Meet that boy on the street, or go up in his office, you'dthink that he was the gayest feller in town. I tell you there wasn'tanything pathetic about Mel Bickner! He didn't believe in it. And athome he had a funny story every evening of the world, about something'd happened during the day; and 'd whistle to the guitar, or git hismaw into a game of cards with his aunt and the girls. Law! that boydidn't believe in no house of mourning. He'd be up at four in themorning, hoein' up their old garden; raised garden-truck for theirtable, sparrow-grass and sweet corn--yes, and roses, too; always hadthe house full of roses in June-time; never _was_ a housesweeter-smellin' to go into. 

"Mel was what I call a useful citizen. As I said, I knowed him well. Idon't recollect I ever heard him speak of himself, nor yet of hisfather but once--for _that_, I reckon, he jest couldn't; and forhimself; I don't believe it ever occurred to him. 

"And he was a _smart_ boy. Now, you take it, all in all, a boycan't be as smart as Mel was, and work as hard as he did, and not_git_ somewhere--in this State, anyway! And so, about the fifthyear, things took a sudden change for him; his father's enemies andhis own friends, both, had to jest about own they was beat. The crowdthat had been running the conventions and keepin' their own men in allthe offices, had got to be pretty unpopular, and they had the sense tosee that they'd have to branch out and connect up with some mightygood men, jest to keep the party in power. Well, sir, Mel had got tobe about the most popular and respected man in the county. Then oneday I met him on the street; he was on his way to buy an overcoat, andhe was lookin' skimpier and more froze-up and genialer than ever. Itwas March, and up to jest that time things had be'n hardest of all forMel. I walked around to the store with him, and he was mighty happy;goin' to send his mother north in the summer, and the girls were goin'to have a party, and Bob, his little brother, could go to the bestschool in the country in the fall. Things had come his way at last, and that very morning the crowd had called him in and told him theywere goin' to run him for county clerk. 

"Well, sir, the next evening I heard Mel was sick. Seein' him only theday before on the street, out and well, I didn't think anything ofit--thought prob'ly a cold or something like that; but in the morningI heard the doctor said he was likely to die. Of course I couldn'thardly believe it; thing like that never _does_ seem possible, but they all said it was true, and there wasn't anybody on the streetthat day that didn't look blue or talked about anything else. Nobodyseemed to know what was the matter with him exactly, and I reckon thedoctor did jest the wrong thing for it. Near as I can make out, it waswhat they call appendicitis nowadays, and had come on him in thenight. 

"Along in the afternoon I went out there to see if there was anythingI could do. You know what a house in that condition is like. Old FesBainbridge, who was some sort of a relation, and me sat on the stairstogether outside Mel's room. We could hear his voice, clear andstrong and hearty as ever. He was out of pain; and he had to die withthe full flush of health and strength on him, and he knowed it. Not_wantin'_ to go, through the waste and wear of a long sickness, but with all the ties of life clinchin' him here, and success jestcomin. ' We heard him speak of us, amongst others, old Fes and me;wanted 'em to be sure not forget to tell me to remember to vote forFillmore if the ground-hog saw his shadow election year, which was anold joke I always had with him. He was awful worried about his mother, though he tried not to show it, and when the minister wanted to prayfer him, we heard him say, 'No, sir, you pray fer my mamma!' That wasthe only thing that was different from his usual way of speakin'; hecalled his mother 'mamma, and he wouldn't let 'em pray for himneither; not once; all the time he could spare for their prayin' wasput in for her. 

"He called in old Fes to tell him all about his life insurance. He'dcarried a heavy load of it, and it was all paid up; and the sweat itmust have took to do it you'd hardly like to think about. He givedirections about everything as careful and painstaking as any day ofhis life. He asked to speak to Fes alone a minute, and later I helpedFes do what he told him. 'Cousin Fes, ' he says, 'it's bad weather, butI expect mother'll want all the flowers taken out to the cemetery andyou better let her have her way. But there wouldn't be any good oftheir stayin' there; snowed on, like as not. I wish you'd wait tillafter she's come away, and git a wagon and take 'em in to thehospital. You can fix up the anchors and so forth so they won't looklike funeral flowers. '

"About an hour later his mother broke out with a scream, sobbin' andcryin', and he tried to quiet her by tellin' over one of theirold-time family funny stories; it made her worse, so he quit. 'Oh, Mel, ' she says, 'you'll be with your father--'

"I don't know as Mel had much of a belief in a hereafter; certainly hewasn't a great churchgoer. 'Well, ' he says, mighty slow, but heartyand smiling, too, 'if I see father, I--guess--I'll--be--pretty--well--fixed!' Then he jest lay still, tryin' to quiet her and pettin'her head. And so--that's the way he went. "

Fiderson made one of his impatient little gestures, but Mr. Martindrowned his first words with a loud fit of coughing. 

"Well, sir, " he observed, "I read that 'Leg-long' book down home; andI heard two or three countries, and especially ourn, had gone middlingcrazy over it; it seemed kind of funny that _we_ should, too, so Ithought I better come up and see it for myself, how it _was_, on thestage, where you could _look_ at it; and--I expect they done it aswell as they could. But when that little boy, that'd always had hisboard and clothes and education free, saw that he'd jest about talkedhimself to death, and called for the press notices about hischristening to be read to him to soothe his last spasms--why, I wasn'toverly put in mind of Melville Bickner. "

Mr. Martin's train left for Plattsville at two in the morning. LittleFiderson and I escorted him to the station. As the old fellow waved usgood-bye from within the gates, Fiderson turned and said:

"Just the type of sodden-headed old pioneer that you couldn't hope tomake understand a beautiful thing like 'L'Aiglon' in a thousandyears. I thought it better not to try, didn't you?"