has it," Pink said. "Claims to have been attacked in his
rooms by two masked men. Probably wouldn't have told it, but the doctor
talked. Looks as though he could wallop six masked men, doesn't he?"

"Yes," said Willy Cameron, reflectively. "Yes; he does, rather."

He felt more hopeful than he had for days. Lily on her way home, clear
once more of the poisonous atmosphere of Doyle and his associates; Akers
temporarily out of the way, perhaps for long enough to let the normal
influences of her home life show him to her in a real perspective; and a
rather unholy but very human joy that he had given Akers a part of what
was coming to him--all united to cheer him. He saw Lily going home, and
a great wave of tenderness flooded him. If only they would be tactful
and careful, if only they would be understanding and kind. If they would
only be normal and every-day, and accept her as though she had never
been away. These people were so hedged about with conventions and
restrictions, they put so much emphasis on the letter and so little on
the spirit. If only--God, if only they wouldn't patronize her!

His mother would have known how to receive her. He felt, that afternoon,
a real homesickness for his mother. He saw her, ample and comfortable
and sane, so busy with the comforts of the body that she seemed to
ignore the soul, and yet bringing healing with her every matter-of-fact
movement.

If only Lily could have gone back to her, instead of to that great
house, full of curious eyes and whispering voices.

He saw Mr. Hendricks that evening on his way home to supper. Mr.
Hendricks had lost flesh and some of his buoyancy, but he was
persistently optimistic.

"Up to last night I'd have said we were done, son," he observed. "But
this bomb business has settled them. The labor vote'll split on it, sure
as whooping cough."

"They've bought a half-page in all the morning papers, disclaiming all
responsibility and calling on all citizens to help them in protecting
private property."

"Have they, now," said Hendricks, with grudging admiration. "Can you
beat that? Where do they get the money, anyhow? If I lost my watch these
days I'd have to do some high-finance before I'd be able to advertise
for it."

"All right, see Cardew," were his parting words. "But he doesn't want
this election any more than I want my right leg. He'll stick. You can
talk, Cameron, I'll say it. But you can't pry him off with kind words,
any more than you ca