o take the appointment
against my wishes and my judgment. I had no desire to go to Washington
then, I have less to-day. I have come to the conclusion that my
usefulness to you is at an end."

I got to my feet. I beheld Miller Gorse sitting impassive, with
his encompassing stare, the strongest man of them all. A change of
firmaments would not move him. But Dickinson had risen and put his hand
on my shoulder. It was the first time I had ever seen him white.

"Hold on, Hugh," he exclaimed, "I guess we're all a little cantankerous
today. This confounded campaign has got on our nerves, and we say things
we don't mean. You mustn't think we're not grateful for the services
you've rendered us. We're all in the same boat, and there isn't a man
who's been on our side of this fight who could take a political office
at this time. We've got to face that fact, and I know you have the sense
to see it, too. I, for one, won't be satisfied until I see you in
the Senate. It's where you belong, and you deserve to be there. You
understand what the public is, how it blows hot and cold, and in a few
years they'll be howling to get us back, if these demagogues win.

"Sure," chimed in Grierson, who was frightened, "that's right, Hugh. I
didn't mean anything. Nobody appreciates you more than I do, old man."

Tallant, too, added something, and Berringer,--I've forgotten what. I
was tired, too tired to meet their advances halfway. I said that I had a
speech to get ready for that night, and other affairs to attend to,
and left them grouped together like crestfallen conspirators--all save
Miller Gorse, whose pervasive gaze seemed to follow me after I had
closed the door.

An elevator took me down to the lobby of the Corn Bank Building.
I paused for a moment, aimlessly regarding the streams of humanity
hurrying in and out, streaking the white marble floor with the wet
filth of the streets. Someone spoke my name. It was Bitter, Judd Jason's
"legal" tool, and I permitted myself to be dragged out of the eddies
into a quiet corner by the cigar stand.

"Say, I guess we've got Krebs's goat all right, this time," he told me
confidentially, in a voice a little above a whisper; "he was busy with
the shirt-waist girls last year, you remember, when they were striking.
Well, one of 'em, one of the strike leaders, has taken to easy street;
she's agreed to send him a letter to-night to come 'round to her room
after his meeting, to say that she's sick and wan