The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, April 5, 1903, Page 3

1 nol last musi ine had trgbie whim e strair he wa Garwo some ¢ were striking a { the cockro: of heat, and k eye caught stairs. tor arew s v\l_\' towari th iey met for a littie walk—thought night ht refresh me. aiong n't _care if 1 do, office was deserted by ail save the who snoozed behind his counter, that buzzed around the lamps, that walked like somnan ceiling, and on the 0 men sauntered careiess- side door e Garwood sniffed in eager- athed his bro 7 he said but it is,” acqu don’'t bother me aid Pusey. ced much, black overhead, not a In the west, now re of hest lightning the =ky, photograph- antly the strange roofs, mneys, the black outline . beginning to lurch slow- in the little wind that ange tre like eleph tirred g I believe there's a breeze,” Garwood He was still sniffing the night air gn, anim “Rain, too, in that eh ‘usey tapped along on the ewalk with his littie stick old brick and said ve a cigar?” itly n’'t care if 1 do,” sald Pusey, throw- way the one he was smoking. They s ch scratched on a heel ier lightning of its own y flame upon their faces and then their cigars glowed in the darkness, and t them a fragrance that no in Pekin could exhale, nor a certain cigar store nue, where Garwood said Garwood d Garwood, re Don't care if I do,” d come at last; the long 1 broken. Overhead the thunder pealed up and down its whole diapason, booming now and then with new explo- ns then rolling awav in awful meicdy o some distant quarter of the broken E . The I tning crackled in long streams of fire that zigzagged down the ck sky, reaching from heaven to earth, its terglare the ciouds so low showed their The rain fell with a dead in- cessant drumming on the earth, warm as new milk, and all green things stirred rap- turously as they drank it in. Down on the banks of the Illinois River rwood stood and looked on the dark ters. In the constant play of the light- i he saw the trees on the other shore g their round heads to the wind; he could see even their green leaves dis- tinct in the dazzling white light. He saw = some warm, earthly gleam shining in some window he would never know. He now and then the outline of some house-boat, rude dwelling of the river , stirring uneasily at its moorings he saw the wild =ails of one of the ndmills erected by the German settlers region, brought with them, as it were, from their homé far across the seas, B once again in a glare more lasting vid than any other, he saw a tele- lifting itself for an instant to ading fts arms. and it re- cross on a hill, some new » closed his eyes and looked no more. X m a crazy street that mbled up from the water's edge led ck to the heart of the town. The small rful lights, now and 2 rne to him from some hurmanly glad of the relief the rain ought. “Then, in a fresh illumina- 5 the courthouse where the es were playing with him. The storm ged, the lightning raced in sheets of me along the river, and though the toward the river, Pusey,” “I fancy it'll be cooler said Pusey. The storm h heat w heavens lashed like a winds om the rain up and dewn its broom, the drops the surface of ti and placid as on a ed with the an stood in th the water running off h > rivuleus, but he soaked him- If to the skin and drank in the ra i other iffe about him. He stoo as though defying the storm. his a i agic attitudes s here and the illuminating for him d vivid in memory just as there He Hi- r his scenes the the the river. the shantv the windmill, the Golgotha of the graph pole. He thought of his first con- vention. of the he waited in the Hark- ness drawing-room and saw old Jasper working in rd; of that cleetion nighe in Chi is place in the House at A ) he thought of Rankin, of his other, of Emily, of his boy—ah, the boy! The lightning glared. His cye caught the telegraph pole agaln; he saw the cross, leaning at an awful angle on the nill; he shuddered and pulled down the Lrim of his hat and went away. When he entered the hotel, the new life brought by the rain was apparent new energy displayed by the politi They had gathered indoors. Garwood heard them joking, he heard them laugh- ing. There was industry everywhere. The k arters were full. In his own room the poker game was in progress. The chips clicked merrily. Even Rankin had succumbed and sat at the table. a pile _\.’ the red and blue disks before him. His wat and waistcoat anl collar, even his <hoes. were off: his suspenders hung at his hips. his great body was all The windows were open. the dirt tains streamed on the wind that blew the finor was wet where the rain ha kled it unrestrained Rankin W zhing. joying in the rain. 't it great?" he said in his hass And he shook himself to relish the ation of coolness after all the week sufferable The Singed on hard Jir. his coat still on. fmpervious 1~ little discomforts of life “This game,” he drawled, raising an ey t Garwood, » be—for the pur- pose—-of determining—whether—these fel- Jows—get my money—or I get their—I. O. e rigid s ever the room loudly with the nter. rwond stood. dripping with 1 looked at them in wonderment Heat spell’s broken,” Rankin nres- “Wisht the Alock w Mavhe bt the rain ‘Il fetch us luck. What nk. Jerry?” Garwoo. vked at him as if he did not know what the man had said rang water XV. The storm ceased just before daybreak i the light that si prairie to the eastward suif world. The water dripped musicaily the trees, the robins sang, the croaked comfortabiy along the wet banxs of the river, and the morming poured down its green valley an air that sparkied ii champagne. The convention met again at o'clock, but it scemed another conven- The delegates arrived early a seemed to have been made over 1, for they entered. even the of them, with a new spring in their 1 it was to be noticed that they aved and wore clean linen d been swept of all its or was still damp with the janitor had written with s sprinkiing-can. as if had been some new kind of fountai The chairs were set in a fir or, 50 orderly that the delegs them, carcfully, as if, possessed by a new sense of harmony, they feared to destroy the pleasing arfangement of things. Even the cigars they puffed. send- ng their white smoke gracefully up into the lively air, had gained a fragrance. The delegates had forgotten the animos ties of the past few days and they joked each other as they met again on the old brotherly footing. Rankin was there with an fr r lying_down about his He had left off his waistcoat, and the white shirt his wife had packed in his little traveling-bag when he started from home was now at last donned in obedience to her parting mandate, and unhidden as it was, gave to the world a broad and convineing proof of his domestic disci- pline. Randolph, too, was immaculate, while young Knowlton was almost sena- torial in freshly brushed black clothes and linen that had the metallic gloss of the y machine on it . Jim," Randolph called acros ‘going to withdraw your car this morning. ain’t you?” No, I'm goin’ to withdraw yourn.’ What do you say to withdrawing them all and unifing on you? You'd make a noble Congressman.” You bet I would,” Rankin responded, “bat 1 coulan’t afford to give the job all my time fer the money the's in it.” “Of course not,”.Randolph flung back at him, “but you might sublet it to me.” “Weli, T might git you a job shovelin’ wind oft the Capitol, cnly I reckon you wouldn't da’'st leave that lucrative law practice o' yourn’, heh?” The delcgates around laughed at the old, old jokes with which they chaffed each other. “What do you say to unitin’ on Grant here? That speech o' his t'other day 'uld se the whole surplus out o the treasury.” Knowlton blushed. Perhaps his heart swelled for a second at the mere thought, for. like all young lawyers, he had his ambitions, with the dome of the Capitol at Washington in the perspective of his dreams. But the Singed Cat was leaning over the Judge's desk again and his littie eyes, out of his thin serious face, swept the clrcle of chairs before him.' His gavel el “The convention=will said in his penetrating he paused and looked solemnly about. “The chair—desires to remind—the con- vention—" he continued, and the delegates looked up in alarm. “that the administra tion at Washington—has redeemed—it promise—of prosperity—to the farmer—by sending—the former—and latter rain—upon the earth—in due season, which shows— what the party—can do—in the way—of keeping prom —when it gets—its hand in.” The convention laughed. Men were one with 2!l nature in being glad that morn- ing. Then the chairman continued grave- s before: Proceding upon—the regular order— an- sther ballot—for nomination—of a repre- sentative—in Congress—will be taken Gentlemen—will prepare—their ballots, and the secretary—will call—the roll.” And Hale, for the twelve hundred and sixty-first time, began his monotonous ~epetition. DeWitt?" Sprague, eighteen The chairman long ago had ceased to poll their delegations or to make the for- mal announcements they had found so pleasant when they first began. They had long been answering the roll-call in a fixed perfunctory manner. as a bailiff opens court by a formula that has grown meaningless. and will know no change as long as institutions last. “Logan “Twenty-four for Barret “Mason?"” litter and the fancy s enormous neck. the ate be—in order.” he voice. And then of the delegates had strolled to the open winlows and stood leaning idly on the sills. looking out on the wonder- ful morning. Moultrie?” Fifteen Sprague.” Piatt?” Sprague, fifteen.” “Polk?” Pusey arose. “Mr. chairman,” he said In his weak voice. Delegates near him looked up. Ran- dolph_crouched like a lynx, then rose on bent knees, with an alert inquiry in his eyes, “On behalf of the delegation from Polk Count Pusey continued. “I cast the snlld‘ forty-five votes for Jerome B. Gar- wood. Hale, leaning listiessly on an elbow, his head in his hand. gazing away like an abstracted schoolboy through the open windows as if the woods and flelds beck- «ned him from irksome routine tasks, had been calling the roll from memory, and THE keeping né tally, for he knew the for- mua perfectiy by this time. But he look- startied. Rankin tilted back in air, let it come down suddenly, its striking the floor with a bang; his fell. Knowlton sprang to his feet, face wiitten all over with surprise, and Randoiph, his eyes abiaze, quickly ightening his legs and raising himself lis toes broke the startled stiliness crying excitedly: Chairman was aping of chairs, a_hum voices, “that ascended immediately (o a roar, and then a score of men began o shout crazily: 2 “Mr Chairman! Mr. Chairman!” Pusey had scated himself, he was as in- it as ever. And Kankin could only upefaction. t aione was unmoved by the staruing ciimax to ali those wither- ing days of heat and suspense. He ham- mcred the desk with his gavel and said: ““I'ne convention—again—will —in or- der. Let the roll-call procee And Hale called loudly amid the din that would nol subside: “Tazewell " The chairman of shouted: “Lhirty votes for Garwood!” The staid old courtroom all its traditions of the dignity of judicial proceedings was in an uproar. ‘Lne whole convention was on ils feet, everybody, was calling: “Mr. Chair- man.” krom without, men to whom had been borne by some occult transmission of intelligence the news of that, the final moment, crowded breathlessly into the room. The belief that the morning was cool 1 been a delusion. Now that the peace uced by universal harmony had been marred, men begai to perspire, to fow red in the face; the atmosphere in instant bad become stifling, The Gar- men had begun to cheer. The ue men and haps the little group rrett’'s supporters, foiled in whatever their original purpose had been, lized that they were defeated, and they raged impgtentiy. Hale was hurriedly "casung sy_sum, and wien he handed p io Bailey his heart leaped with the thought that at last the Pekin postof- fice was his. he Singed Cat deliberately studied his figures, and his deliberation, with the power of the definite announcement that was pending, compelled a sudden quiet his gavel had theretofore been unabie to invoke. And at last, in the suspense which was_all fictitious, the product of :zu Anglo-Saxon mania for legal forms, he said: “Upon this ballot General William Barrcti—has received—twenty-four votes, it was seen that he was reversing the or der for its effect, “Conrad Sprague—for- ty-eight, and Jerome B. Garwood—ninety- thre Mr. Garwood—having receiv the nece y number—and a majorily— jof ail—the votes—cast—is therefore—de- c Jd—to be—the nominee—of the con- vention—for Representative—in Congress— for the Thirtcenth District—of Illinois— for the term—beginnihg—the fourth day— of March—ensuing."” The strain was over, the long pent-up emotions of the seventy men who had stood sohdly for Jerry Garwood, and now had won victory at last, broke forth, and tney flung their hats into the air, tore off their coats to wave aloft, brandished chairs, and pounded one another on the ba liing all the time. The followers of Sprague yeiled no less excitedly, though tneir rage was that of defeat. Randoiph strode to where Hale was sitting, hi mouth stretched wide in a demented yell, and pounded the table with his fist, crying unceasingly: “Mr. Chairman! Mr, Chairman!" The Singed Cat stood leaning as he had leaned for days, with his eyes upon the desk he had scarred with his gavel. For ten minutes, and it seemed an hour, the men howied, until, exhausted by the ex- ertion and the excitement, their voices failed, and they colifpsed into their chairs. _ But Randolph, in the approxi- mate order which the exhaustion brought about, @ontinued to cry, until at last the Singed Cat's voice pierced to all the cor- ners of the courthouse. *“The convention—will be—in order! The convention—has not—yet adjourned. There is—st work—tg be done.” But Randoiph continued to cry. “Gentlemen—will resume—their seats,” ]‘nx;" aid, “before—they can—be recog- nized. Randolph cried: “Mr. Chairman! Mr. Chairman!” But Bailey’'s eye forced him backward to his place, and when he had retreated to the midst of the Moultrie County dele- gation the chairman said: ““I'he gentleman—from Moultrie.” “Mr. Chairman,” Randolph said, and the convention, supposing he was about to observe custom and move to make the nomination unanimous, listened. *Mr, Chairman,” he said, “I challenge the vote of the Polk County delegation.” “The gentleman—from Moultrie—is out —of order,” the Singed Cat promptly ruled. “None—but a member—of the Polk County delegation —can challenge — its vote The Sprague men seemed about to gather themselves for another noisy pro- test, but interest had suddenly veered to the Logan County delegation. There a consultation was in progress, hurried and ger, and out of it Knowlton arose, and splendid bass voice boomed: ir. Chairman he gentleman—from Logan.” “Mr. Chairman, 1 move you, sir, that the nomination of Jerome B. Garwood be made unanimous. He had seized the only little chance that remained of identifying his delegation with the success of the nominee. The band wagon had taken them by surprise and rolled by too swiftly for them to climb in. ‘““Ihe gentleman—{rom Logan—moves— to make—the nomination—of the Honqr- able—Jerome B. Garwood—for candidate— for the office—of Representative—in C Br unanimous,” said the Singed Cat, yielding not a word of all his formula. “Those in favor—will say—‘Aye.’ The motion carried, of course, though not without a great shout of ““Noes™ from the little band of Sprague men, who gath- ered about their leader, looking defiance out of their defeat. The Garwood men had wrung the moist hand of Pusey, but it was Rankin whom they selected for the center of their celebration. As they crowded about him, they pommeled him, pulled him, screamed in his ears; they would have liked to toss him to their shoulders, but he was too big to be moved. He could only sit in the midst of all their clamor, and stare in wonder and amaze at Puse He, to whom all the credit for the victory was ascribed, could not understand it, that was all. But pres- ently, when he heard his name mentioned officially, he stirred. Knowlton had moved that a committee be appointed to wait on Garwood and inform him of his nomination, and what Rankin heard was the voice of Balley saying: ‘“‘And the chair—appoints—as members— of the committee—Messrs. Knowliton of Logan—Randolph of Moultrie~<and Ran- kin of Polk.” The committee found their nominee in his room at the hotel. He was sitting calmiy by his open window looking into the green boughs of the elm trees that grew along that side of the old hostelry. An open book lay oh his knee. and having calm- ly called “Come in!” in answer to the knock at the door, he looked up as they entered, =s 1if they had interrupted the meditations of a statesman. “Abh. gentlemen,” he =aid, rising. He laid his booK aside and stepped soft- ly toward them. Rankin saw at once the change that was on him. His hair was combed, his face shaven, his long coat brushed, and he had donned a fresh white waistcoat. As Rankin noted these details, a pain ninched his heart, for he deduced from them that there was no surprise in store for Garwood. Ordinarily he would have been the first to speak, he would have rushed forward, and seized the hand of his candidate, and exuited in his frank and open way, but now the words he had were checked on his lips, and he remained dumb, growing formal as the ‘sensitive will. Thus it was left for Knowlton, for Randolph had no stomach for the job, to say, as he held forth his hand: “Mr. Garwood, let me be the first to congratulate you on your nomination.” on that delegation with hesitated, though still he SUNDAY FCALLL wood smiled, and took Knowliton's ntlemen, T thank you,” he said. He gave his hand to Randolph, and last of to Rankin. h_Jim, old fellow.”” he said. But he did not meet Rankin's e “The convention is waiting for you, Mr. Garwood,” said Know!ton, and the nom- inee answered: be glad to “Ah. in@eed? I company you.” The citizens at the door of the court- room for whom a representative in Con- gress had just been chosen, parted to let them pass. but they did not cheer. They accepted their character of mere specta- tors, and seemed to feel that they had no right to disturb the proceedings by any demonstration of their own. But the slight commotion they made had its ef- fect within, and_the waiting delegates turned their heads to catch se of their coming Congressman. down the aisle on the right arm of Kuowl- ton: Randolph and Rankin came march- ing behind. The Garwood men began to clap their hands, they stamped their feet, and at last they lifted up a shout, and so. marching erect among them. his face white, his brows intent and his fixed eves brilliant with excitement. Garwood walk- ed the short way to the front. The Singed Cat met him at the steps of the rostrum, and havirg taken his hand. raised him to the Judge's place, and said: “Gentlemen of the convention. T have the honor—to present to you—your nom- inee—and nexi Congressman—the Hon- orable—Jerome B. Garwood. Bailey faded into the Judge's chair, and Garwood, slowly buttoning his coat, stood and looked over the body of delegates. He began to bow. It was Hale now who led the applause, not Rankin, and he kept them at it by sheer force of the persistence with which he clapped his own hands, not giving in until he felt that the enthusiasm did justice to the candidate, to his victory, and to the occasion. The Sprague men sat silent, no sound came from their quarter. Garwood bowed in his stateliest way to the Singed Cat as he sald: ‘‘Mr. Chair- man,” and he bowed again to his au- dience as he added. “‘and gentlemen of the convention.” And then he made his specch. He would not detain them long at that time. he =aid. as If. at some future day they might expect to be held indefinitely Buf he detained them long enough to as- sure them how Impossible it was for him to find words in which to express his thanks for the confidence they had re- posed in him, and his warm appreciation of the honor they had conferred upon him, He referred to his past services in their behalf, and in behalf of the party. and he puf the responsibility for his sSuccess upon them by saying that future victories could only come through their united ef- forts, as if he were making a sacrifice for thelr sake in consenting to be their candidate at all. He spoke with the customary assump- tion that his nomination had come entire- 1y unsought, but he made them feel his devotion by the willingness with which he assured them he would bear their ban- ner that fall, and he graciously promised to give his entire time from then until November to the election of the whole ticket. Then in briefly reviewing the services and the sacrifices of the late Congress, he repeated, though with a fine extemporaneous effect. the best sentences of his speecn at Washington and quoted readily for them the most fmpressive stat- istics of imoorts and exports. which they did not at all understand. and as if these figures had fully vindicated the wisdom of their party’'s policy on the tariff ques- tion. he predicted that the scepter of commercial erfipire -vas even then passing into the hands of the United States. He did not forget the old_soldiers. nor their pensions, neither did he neglect to pay most generous tributes to the distin- guished gentlemen whose names had heen mentioned in connection with the hizh office to which he had been nominated. He seemed almost to regret that they had not shall ac- Jbeen chosen in his nlace, such were thefr superfor merits and nobler virtues. And thus by an easy oratorical ecircuit, he came around to where he had begun. and thanking his fellow countrymen again. bowed and smi'ed, and turned to receive the congratulatory hand of the Singed Cat. When the aoplause which Hale bad loyallv started had ended. thers were cries for Syrague, but as Sprague was not there. an awkward pavse was prevented by a prompt change in the burden of the cry. which now hecame a demand for Bar- rett. From some immediate vantage point the general was conjured forth. and made his speech. thanking his friends, congrat- ulating his opponents. and extolling the party they unitedlv represented. as if he were as well satisfied with defeat as he would have been with victory. He smiled complacently behind his white heard. and he 1eft the rostrum with his dignity and respectability unimpaired. And the convention was over. XVIL Saturday evening Emily had a telegram from Garw@d announcing his nomina- tion. The message might have come to her Saturday noon, but Garwood had found the delegates for the most part in mood for celebration, while he himself in the reaction of his spirit, was not dis- inclined that way. He held a levee in his rooms reveling in felicitations and when this was done. he suddenly thought of the Sprague men, smarting under de- feat. They must not he allowed to depart for home nursing their sores, and Gar- wood made it a point to see them, or to have Rankin see them. and check in its incipiency a contagion that might plague him in the fall. So it was evening be- fore he thought to wire his wife, and it was late in the night before he took the train for Lincoln, whare he was to change cars for home, leaving the little old Ger- man town to settle to {ts normal quiet for Sunday morning. Emily. with the knowledge of politics that politiclans’ wives acquire. bad watch- ed from day to day the development of the contest at Pekin. Jerome had not written at all, but Emily chose to con- sider his failure as an exercise of one of the privileges of matrimony to which lov- ers look forward as they labor over their love letters. But she added a second rea- son which betrayed the specious quality of the first, when she explained to her father that in these days of newspapers, letter writing had become a lost art, be- longing to a lavender scented past like the embroidery of tapestries. She told her baby, as she rolled his round little body in her lap, that she was jealous of poh- tics, and promised him that when the con- vention was over, his father would be— and here she gasped and dropped the pre- tense that the child could understand. She could not bear to voice, even to her- self, the feeling that her husband was any less the lover that he once had been. She realized to the utmost his position, she had felt it in little sacrifices she had been compelled to make, and she knew of his utter dependence on re-election. Here, too, was another fact- that she could hardly face squarely and honestly. She clung to her old ideal of hef hushand as a statesman no less ardently than she ciung to her oldiideal of him as a lover, and she disliked to feel that he was in Cangress merely as a means of livelihood. A vague discontent flashed nebulously within her, but with all the adroitness of her, mind she yould not allow it to con- crete. “When he fomes home!” she cooed to the baby, ‘“when he comes home!" By Saturday, the strain upon her nerves had increased. like all anxieties, in a ratio equal to the square of the distance from its moving cause. All day long she waited for news, hoping for the best. but fortify- ing herself by trying to believe that if the worst came, it might in the end be beneficial because it must in time, at least, force them to someé more secure temporal foundation. where they could not be_disturbed by every whim of poli- tics. She remembered that Jerome had often reminded her. though that was in moments of security and elation, that all they that take the sword shall perish with the sword. Her father himself suffered a sympathetic suspense and in the after- noon he journeyed downtown to <ee if he could learn anything of what was going on at Pekin. TLate in the dayv the Citizen hung out a bulletin saying that Garwood had been nominated on the twelve hun- dred and sixtv-first ballot, and he hast- ened home, with the importance of an idle man, longing to be the first to an- nounce to Emily the news. But she waved her telegram gayly at him from the ver- as he hurried up the walk, and n, father! He's won! nated!” The old man, cheated of a herald’s dis- inction, could not resist the impulse to He's just he was nominated this mornir t a pang at these tidings of her s tardiness, but she put that in the habit she had acquired, and these telegraph com- panies are so slow s She was happy all that evening, though she denied that her own relief as to their position had aught to do with that happi- ness. ie will be much more useful this term than he was before.” she told her father at supper, “Jerome always said, you know, that it took ore term for a Con- gressman to learn the ropes at Washing- ton.” Garwood reached home Sunday morning, and when he saw Emily waiting in the doorway something iike pity for her smote him, and out of the flush of his new suc- cess he yearned toward her, so that, there in the old darkened haliway where the tender scene had been enacted so many times in other days, he folded her in his arms. and kissed her lips and her brow sand her hair, and called her onve more “Sweetheart.”” And the happy little wom- an purred in his embrace. and as she hid her face against his breast. she said: “My Jerome—my big Jerome!"" And it was all as it had been two years before. Only now, lifting her eyes to his. he!r face reddened with a blush as she said: You must come up and tell baby—he is_dying to hear all about it.” Emily vowed to Garwood that now the convention was over he must take a rest, and he was content for days to loll at home. He slept late in the morning and she bore his breakfast to him with his mail, or he stretched himself on the divan in the parlor in the afternoon while she read the newspapers to him until he would sink into slumber with the assur- ance that the room would be darkened and the house hushed until he chose to walke, Pusey had nailed the party banner to his masthead as it were. and Emily read to Garwood with a laugh that could not conceal her pride the big types at the head of his editorial page: “For Congress, Jerome B. Garwood.” There day after «day it remained, and she read it over and over, finding a cer- tain joy in it. Pusey had printed a long editorial announcing his determination to support Garwood, and explaining with the conviction of the editorial page—where the argument is all one way. with nn chance for rejoinder—his own actlon in voting for the candidate he had originally opposed. ‘“He isn’t really consistent. is he. Je- rome?" Emily said after she had read the editorial aloud to her husband. “Oh, well,” he laughed. knocking the ashes froms the cigarette he was smoking, in a security he could find nowhere else in Grand Prairfe, for he did not wish the town to know ihat he smoked cigarettes, “you know what Emerson sa ‘A fool- ish consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds adored by little statesmen and philosophers and divines.’ “Yes. I remember.” the wife replied. “We used to read Emerson, didn't we?" Her words breathed regret. “We never read any more. We seem to have no time for anything but newspapers.” And she looked askance at the disordered pile of them on ‘the floor and out of sense of gullt reduced them to smaller compass. “1 wonder how Mr. Rankin did it?" she mused a moment after. “Did what?" “Why, induced Mr. you “Rankin?” Pusey to vote for said y. ves. He did. didn't he? I thought he did everything for you. Garwood sneered. “Rankin did nothing!” he said, “Ran- kin's what the boys in Chicago call a selling plater.” “Why, 1 thought he did eve Emily repeated. “Who did then *“I reckon I had as much as anybody to do with it.” “You?" “Yes. Why not?” “But how?" “Oh—I took him for a walk one pight— the night it stormed. Did it storm here?" “Oh, fearfully; in the early morning— awfuliy! But tell me—how did you do it?" Garwood laughed. “Oh, 1 just talked to him. “Did vou persuade him—convince him?” “Evidently.” =, Emily was silent “for a moment, and her brows were knit. “I hope—"" she began, but checked her- self. *“T've often thought.”” she said, be- ginning over, “that we ought to have Mr. Rankin and 'his poor little wife here to dinner. T feel guilty about them. You— we—will be good to them won't we? Garwood laughed again. “You needn’t worry about Jim Rankin.” he =aid, “though I don’t know that I owe him much after his letting the delega- tion here in Polk get away from me. I had a hard time licking it back into line.” It was several days after that Cowley published an article in the Chicago Cour- jer which told of the tremendous prom- ises that had been made at Pekin in ex- change for votes. He said that Garwood had shown himself a clever politician, for he had not only been able to hold up most of the appointments in his district until after his second nomination. but he had had the help of the administration's in- fluence at Pekin. Cowley then proceeded to schedule the distribution of patronage that would be made; Hale for the post- office at Pekin. Bailey for Speaker of the House. and Rankin. of course, for the postoffice at Grand Prairie. He could not dispose of Pusev as definitely, but it was not to be supposed that Pusey had gone to Garwood and saved him from political oblivion for nothing at all. Emily read the article alodd to Jerome. He knew by her silence when she had finished that questions were forming in her mind. She set her lips and began shakirg her head antil she produced a low “No. 1 don't Iike that.” “That New E conscience of yours troubling you . ed Garwood. “T wish we had more New England con- science in our politics!” she replied with a wife's severity. “We've got enough of New England in our politics now!” Garwood said, with a flare of the western animosi England’s long d)mination of public at- airs. “Well.” she persisted. and he saw that her lips were growing rigid. “I think we need conscience in our politics, whether it’s New England or not.” Garwood laughed, but it was a bitter laugh. “I'm afraid 1t wouldn't win. A conscience, Emily, is about as great an impediment to a practical politician in these days as it is to a successful law- yer. YDon't be cynical, Jerome ed. And she thought again. “Did you promise Hale tae postoffice for getting” you those Tazewell County ) T did.” it said Emily. Garwood. hing! she plead- said Garwood, 'Ne, dear, T don't. “What would you have me do? it to some fellow against me? “N-n-n-no.” she said. “but—"" “But what?’ he went on. “You liked it when T told you T was going to—take care of Rankin, didn't you? “That's different,” she said. 'Oh, 4 woman's logic!” he laughed. You don’t believe in buying votes, do you, Jerome?’ she asked, with her lips still tense so that they showed a little llnli\ of whitesat the edges of their red. “But you do believe in buying them wi: offices. What's the postoffice at Pck:: worth “Oh, eighteen hundred, I reckon.” ‘‘Bighteen hundred—for four years; jet's see—four eights—thirty-two: ~hum-m-m, four ones—three—seven; seven—thousand, isn't it?” ‘“Well, you're not very good at figures, gutd:'nu‘ve nearly hit #—within two hun- red.” “T neverscould multiply in my mind.” Emily confessed. “But you wouldn't Glve over there who was seven think it right to give a man . fi a delegat sand dollars in money fo from “that's natorial again. 1 don't s fig- laughed > seriou: rome. the myse woman couldn could unde 1 politic Well, I and this ed 3 abou womer 1wy how."” that I never have this country the p elected their best man to seems that the repr and then the peo- think the people out eir best man Wi it ir Garwood asked, with an homest laugh his eves, She bént over him, “Yes, 1 do, generally now. 0, you're not,” Garwood insisted; omen” can't spy generally. It's al- ways a personal, concrete question with them.” “Well, you know, Jerome, I've had my ideals—in politics, 0o, since you inter me in politics.” “You weren't interested in politics, you were interested in one politician, and that politician was—me."” “Well, you—you were my ideal, and [ thought of vou as I thought of Patrick Henry, in the old Virginia House of Bur- gesses, and—" Oh, you haven't thought deeply my dear. Patrick had his own troubles, believe me, though they didn't get into history. Did you ever stop to inquire how Patrick got to the House of Burgesses? it was easy enough to make speeches af- ter he was there—that was the easiest part of it—but the getting there, it wasn all plain sailing then. First he had the devil's own time getting on the delegation himself, then after he'd made himself solid by supporting other men awhile, he had another time rounding up delegations that would support him, and there was many a man in Virgina that day. whose name is lost in darkness, who was ag him, and many another who went out and saw the boys and set up the pins and got the right ones on the delegation, who was thinking of some fat job in that same House of Burgesses. And take ar other of the white statuesque figures of those heroic times. h, no, Jerome, don’t—you're too much of an jconoclast. Leave me my There's the baby She arose at the premonitory whi that a mother's ear detected. elected tk impulsively and kissed e said, “but I'm speaking nough, ideals. XVII. Rankin returned to Grand Prairie fro the convention in a state of mental num ness. The thing he had gone to Pekin to do had been donme, and yet he did not know how it had been dome. Every one greeted him as the author of Garwood fortunes: his iatest with the rest, and was forced to accept congratulations to which he did not feel himself entitled. As the days went by and he saw Gar- wood’s name at the head of Pusey’s edi- torial column, and. read Pusey's artic favoring Garwood's election, he was more than ever at a loss to account for the anomalous situation in which he found himself. Sometimes he had his doubts for he was old enough in political wa to have acquired the politician's distrust, and what with the whisperings of friends and the articles he had read in other newspapers he suffered a torment of sus- picions which were the more because of the wrong he subcons felt they did Garwood. At last he to him. With the small could revive in him, Rankin mounted the stairs to Garwood's office. Garwood w opening a Congressman's mail, always large, and he looked up from his pile of letters and greeted Rankin with a— Well, Jim?"” Rankin; as he sat down, was sensible of the change that had come over their rela- tions, and he grieved for the oid day when he had been able to enter this office with so much more assurance. But he was not the man to dally long in senii- mentalities, and he said, when he had settled Into the chair and mopped his brow: Jerry, I've come to have it out.” Garwood unfolded the letter he had just taken from its envelope. His face rec dened as he bent over to read it, and he did pot turn around. out, Jim?" riousiy went energy the morning he asked, " Rankin went on, derstanding.” ““What misunderstanding? I don’t know what you mean. Explain yourself.”” Gar- wood kept on tearing open his letters. “Oh, well Rankin continued, u know it hain’t all like it used to be, that's all. 1 don’t know how to say it—I jus feel it; but it's there, an’, damn it, 1 don’t like it.” Kankin paused, and then when Garwood did_not reply, he went on: “1 reckon it's 'cause o' my fallin’ dow in the county convention here 't home, an” that's all right; 1 don’t biame you fer feelin’ sore. Course, it come out ail right over at Pekin—I don’t know how it was done, an’ I don't know as I want to know —I know 1 dfdn’t have nothin’ to, do ‘ith it, an’ 1 don’t claim none o' the credit, ner want it. 1 ’as glad you won out, glad as you was. I'd 'a’ give my right arm clean up to the shoulder to’'ve brought it "bout fer you myseif. I didn't do nothin’, I know. I feit kind o' paralyzed all the time over there, after losin' the delegation here, an’ 1 seemed to myself jus' to be standin’ roun’ like any other dub that ‘as on'the outside. I ditin't feel in it, some- how, an’ 1 don’t feel in it now, that's what's the matter. I've al'ays been with you, Jerry, an' you know it, an’ I'm with you now, but they're tellin’ strange stories ‘roun’, an’ I don’t like ‘em, an'—I jus’ want to know where 1 stand ‘ith you, that's all.” Garwood wheeled about in his swivel chair. He looked at Rankin a moment and then he smiled. And when he had smiled, he leaned comfortably back in his chair ‘and placed the tips of his fingers together over his white waistcoat, and then he spoke at last, in his softest voice: ‘““What is it, Jim, that worries you— the postoffice?” ankin looked him straight in the eyes. No, Jerry,” he said, “it ain’t so much that. 1 want it, o' course, you know how 1 need it, an’ I want it more'n ever just now, but I ain't worried so much about that. I've got your word, an’ I know you never went back on it yet, to a friend, though you know, Jerry, that if it ‘uld help you any, you could have your prom- ise back, an' give the postoffice where it 'uld do the mos’ good. You know all you'd have to do.'uld be to say the word, don’t you?” Garwood smiled again and leaned for- ward in his chair and laid one of his white hands on Rankin's fat kne Why, my boy,” he said, “you've been g yourself a great deal of unnece: ry_trouble. You know me, don't you Why, sure,” assented Rankin. Well, you ght to,” still smiling blandly, slight re- proach was in his tone. “You should have known, Jim, that I realized you had done all in your power. I never for an instant blamed you: believe me When I say that It only cccurred to me that 1 could handle the little affair over at Pekin better than you could. I knew that you could never come at Pusey; I knew that you two never could agree in a thousand y S, so T just took hold of it myself—not with very much hope. I confess. but I the it worth trying. And luckily it can about all right in the end. “It's all right, it's all right, Jerry,” Ran- kin protested, waving his hand assuring toward Garwood. only wanted to kn that you felt all right about it, that's all.” His great red face smiled on Garwood like a forgiven boy's. But suddenly it hard- ened again into the face of a man. “You were right—I couldn’t nothing 'ith Pusey, damn him. different from yourn. Maybe right. You believe in conciliatir believe in killin' ‘em off. An on, that’s all. What 'd you romise him Garwood was leaning back had pressed the tips of his 'S sther. Jim." he said, learned a good “this misun- arwood, m; | ur way have to and to- beginning slowly, “Ive deal about poiities.