bored from
the beginning, and though he offered no resistance, his repeated "I
know that!" "That's what I said!" were more disconcerting than the most
vigorous opposition. At daylight the editor left John, and he really
had the headache that he had feigned a few hours before.

Then John Thomas tried to get a few winks of unmolested repose, but it
was election day, and the house was early astir. Loud voices sounded
through the hall. Innumerable people, it seemed, mistook his room for
their own. Jack rose at last, thoroughly indignant and disposed to
quarrel. He had a blame good notion to vote for Brown after all, after
the way he had been treated.

When he had hastily dressed himself, discussing his grievances in a
loud voice, he endeavored to leave the room, but found the door
securely locked. Then his anger knew no bounds. He lustily kicked on
the lower panel of the door and fairly shrieked his indignation and
rage.

The chambermaid, passing, remonstrated with him by beating on the other
side of the door. She was a pert young woman with a squeaky voice, and
she thought she knew what was wrong with the occupant of 17. She had
heard kicks on doors before.

"Quiet down, you, mister, or you'll get yourself put in the cooler--
that's the best place for noisy drunks."

This, of course, annoyed the innocent man beyond measure, but she was
gone far down the hall before he could think of the retort suitable.

When she finished her upstairs work and came downstairs to peel the
potatoes, she mentioned casually to the bartender that whoever he had
in number 17 was "smashin' things up pretty lively!"

The bartender went up and liberated the indignant voter, who by this
time had his mind made up to vote against both Brown and Hastings, and
furthermore to renounce politics in all its aspects for evermore.

However, a good breakfast and the sincere apologies of the hotel people
did much to restore his good humor. But a certain haziness grew in his
mind as to who was who, and at times the disquieting thought skidded
through his murky brain that he might be in the enemy's camp for all he
knew. Angus and Mrs. Angus had said, "Do what you think is right and
vote for Hastings," and that was plain and simple and easily
understood. But now things seemed to be all mixed up.

The committee were ill at ease about him. The way he wagged his head
and declared he knew what was what, you bet, was very disquieting, and
the horrible fear