ut
him.

"Mr. Speaker and gentlemen of the House," he said, "if I desired to
arouse the enthusiasm--the just enthusiasm--of any gathering in this
House, or in this city, or in this state, I should mention the name of
the Honorable Alva Hopkins of Gosport. I think I am right."

Mr. Jameson was interrupted, as he no doubt expected, by applause from
floor and gallery. He stood rubbing his hands together, and it seemed to
William Wetherell that the Speaker did not rap as sharply with his gavel
as he had upon other occasions.

"Gentlemen of the House," continued Mr. Jameson, presently, "the
Honorable Alva Hopkins, whom we all know and love, has with unparalleled
generosity--unparalleled, I say--bought up three hundred and twelve seats
in Fosters Opera House for to-morrow night" (renewed applause), "in order
that every member of this august body may have the opportunity to witness
that most classic of histrionic productions, 'Uncle Tom's Cabin'." (Loud
applause, causing the Speaker to rap sharply.) "That we may show a proper
appreciation of this compliment--I move you, Mr. Speaker, that the House
adjourn not later than six o'clock to-morrow, Wednesday evening, not to
meet again until Thursday morning."

Mr. Jameson of Wantage handed the resolution to a page and sat down
amidst renewed applause. Mr. Wetherell noticed that many members turned
in their seats as they clapped, and glancing along the gallery he caught
a flash of red and perceived the radiant Miss Cassandra herself leaning
over the rail, her hands clasped in ecstasy. Mr. Lovejoy was not with
her--he evidently preferred to pay his attentions in private.

"There she is again," whispered Cynthia, who had taken an instinctive and
extraordinary dislike to Miss Cassandra. Then Mr. Sutton rose
majestically to put the question.

"Gentlemen, are you ready for the question?" he cried. "All those in
favor of the resolution of the gentleman from Wantage, Mr. Jameson--" the
Speaker stopped abruptly. The legislators in the front seats swung
around, and people in the gallery craned forward to see a member standing
at his seat in the extreme rear of the hall. He was a little man in an
ill-fitting coat, his wizened face clean-shaven save for the broom-shaped
beard under his chin, which he now held in his hand. His thin, nasal
voice was somehow absurdly penetrating as he addressed the chair. Mr.
Sutton was apparently, for once, taken by surprise, and stared a moment,
as though