ecause
that relieved the tedium of his life in Rock River. He took an active
part in the fall campaign in county politics, and he delivered the
Fourth of July address at the celebration at Rock River amid the usual
blare of bands and bray of fakirs and ice-cream vendors, while the
small boys fired off crackers in perfect oblivion of anybody but
themselves.

It was magnificent to occupy a covered carriage in the parade and to
sit on the platform as the centre of interest, and to rise amid cheers,
to address the citizens of the United States, to point to cloud-capped
towering peaks, to plant the stars and stripes upon battlements of
ancient wrong, and other equally patriotic things.

No occasion was complete now without him. The strawberry festival that
secured his presence felicitated itself upon the fact and always
insisted on "just a few words, Mr. Congressman."

The summer passed rather better than he had anticipated. About a month
before his return to Washington he received a letter from Ida asking
him to be present at a suffrage meeting in Des Moines, and he accepted
the invitation with great pleasure. He had been wondering how he could
see her again without making the journey for that purpose, which he
could not bring himself to do.

It was a soft, hazy October day and the ride to Des Moines was very
beautiful. The landscape seemed to be in drowse, half-sleeping and
half-waking. The jays flew from amber and orange-colored coverts of
maples and oaks across the blue haze of the open, and quails piped from
the hazel-thickets. Crows flapped lazily across the fields where the
ploughmen were at work. The threshing machines hummed and clattered
with a lower, quieter note, and as Bradley looked upon it all, the
wonder of his release from the toil of reaping and threshing and
ploughing came upon him again.

Ida was glad to see him. She gave him her hand in a frank, strong
clasp.

"You'll stay to tea with us, of course," she said. "There is no one
here but mother and I, and we can talk things all over. This is my
mother," she said, presenting an elderly lady with a broad, placid
face. She said nothing whatever during his stay, but listened to all
that was said with unchanging gravity. It was plain she worshipped her
daughter, and never questioned what she said.

They sat down at the table.

"Mr. Talcott, this is Christine," said Ida, introducing a comely
Norwegian girl who came in with the tea. "Christine takes ca