g sees clearly) in preventing the innocent and inquisitive
from unprofitable speech with the Honourable Jacob Botcher, who sits in
the inner angle conversing cordially with those who are singled out for
this honour. Still other scouts conduct some of the gentlemen who have
talked with Mr. Botcher up the stairs to a mysterious room on the second
floor. Mr. Tooting discovers that the room is occupied by the Honourable
Brush Bascom; Mr. Tooting learns with indignation that certain of these
guests of Mr. Bascom's are delegates pledged to Mr. Crewe, whereupon he
rushes back to the bridal suite to report to his chief. The cigars
are giving out again, and the rush has slackened, and he detaches the
People's Champion from the line and draws him to the inner room.

"Brush Bascom's conducting a bourse on the second floor and is running
the price up right along," cried the honest and indignant Mr. Tooting.
"He's stringin' Adam Hunt all right. They say he's got Adam to cough
up six thousand extra since five o'clock, but the question is--ain't he
stringin' us? He paid six hundred for a block of ten not quarter of an
hour ago--and nine of 'em were our delegates."

It must be remembered that these are Mr. Tooting's words, and Mr.
Crewe evidently treated them as the product of that gentleman's vivid
imagination. Translated, they meant that the Honourable Adam B. Hunt has
no chance for the nomination, but that the crafty Messrs. Botcher
and Bascom are inducing him to think that he has--by making a supreme
effort. The supreme effort is represented by six thousand dollars.

"Are you going to lie down under that?" Mr. Tooting demanded, forgetting
himself in his zeal for reform and Mr. Crewe. But Mr. Tooting, in some
alarm, perceived the eye of his chief growing virtuous and glassy.

"I guess I know when I'm strung, as you call it, Mr. Tooting," he
replied severely. "This cigar bill alone is enough to support a large
family for several months."

And with this merited reproof he turned on his heel and went back to his
admirers without, leaving Mr. Tooting aghast, but still resourceful. Ten
minutes later that gentleman was engaged in a private conversation with
his colleague, the Honourable Timothy Wading.

"He's up on his hind legs at last," said Mr. Tooting; "it looks as if he
was catching on."

Mr. Wading evidently grasped these mysterious words, for he looked
grave.

"He thinks he's got the nomination cinched, don't he?"

"That'