ou, Mr. Lyon," said Mr. Hargrove, "for this manly interference.
It is no more than I should have expected from you."

"I never suffer a young man to strike an old man," said Lyon firmly.
"Apart from that, Mr. Hargrove, there are other reasons why your person
must be free from violence where I am."

"This is a bad place for you, Lyon," said Mr. Hargrove; "and I've said
so to you a good many times." He spoke in rattier an undertone. "Why
WILL you come here?"

"It's a bad place, I know," replied Lyon, speaking out boldly, "and we
all know it. But habit, Mr. Hargrove--habit. That's the cursed thing!
If the bar-rooms were all shut up, there would be another story to
tell. Get us the Maine law, and there will be some chance for us."

"Why don't you vote the temperance ticket?" asked Mr. Hargrove.

"Why did I? you'd better ask," said Lyon.

"I thought you voted against us."

"Not I. Ain't quite so blind to my own interest as that. And, if the
truth were known, I should not at all wonder if every man in this room,
except Slade and his son, voted on your side of the house."

"It's a little strange, then," said Mr. Hargrove, "that with the
drinking men on our side, we failed to secure the election."

"You must blame that on your moderate men, who see no danger and go
blind with their party," answered Lyon. "We have looked the evil in the
face, and know its direful quality."

"Come! I would like to talk with you, Mr. Lyon."

Mr. Hargrove, his son, and Mr. Lyon went out together. As they left the
room, Frank Slade said:

"What a cursed liar and hypocrite he is!"

"Who?" was asked.

"Why, Lyon," answered Frank, boldly.

"You'd better say that to his face."

"It wouldn't be good for him," remarked one of the company.

At this Frank started to his feet, stalked about the room, and put on
all the disgusting airs of a drunken braggart. Even his father saw the
ridiculous figure he cut, and growled out:

"There, Frank, that'll do. Don't make a miserable fool of yourself!"

At which Frank retorted, with so much of insolence that his father flew
into a towering passion, and ordered him to leave the bar-room.

"You can go out yourself if you don't like the company. I'm very well
satisfied," answered Frank.

"Leave this room, you impudent young scoundrel!"

"Can't go, my amiable friend," said Frank, with a cool self-possession
that maddened his father, who got up hastily, and moved across the
bar-room to the place w