g your hands off this thing."

"That would have been an argument once, when I was a wheel-horse with my
political blinders on; it has been an argument that has kept a good many
decent men from doing their duty. It will not work with me now." He put
his folded paper into his pocket, and reached and took the other
document that he had handed to Wasgatt earlier in the evening. "I'll not
disfigure the perfect structure of your platform now, Presson, but I'll
see how these sound from the floor of the convention, in spite of your
resolutions to shut off free speech! Good-night, gentlemen." He turned
to leave, still serene with the poise of one who has experienced all and
is prepared for all. "I used to have pretty good luck playing a lone
hand in our old card-playing days, Thelismer. I'll see what I can do in
politics."

"General Waymouth, have you a few moments to give me if I come to your
room now?" inquired Harlan Thornton. "I want to offer my services!"

"I'll join the party too, if I may!" suggested Linton.

Colonel Wadsworth was twisting his imperial with one hand and fingering
his Loyal Legion button with the other.

"I'm not the kind that waits for a draft, General," he said. "I didn't
in '61. I volunteer now."

General Waymouth smiled, bowed the three ahead of him through the door
of the parlor, and softly closed it behind himself and his little party.

"Well, Thelismer," raved the State chairman, "you can certainly take
rank, at your time of life and after all you've been through, as a
top-notch hell of a politician. You start out to run a State campaign,
and you wind up by not being able to run even your grandson!"

"What I started running seems to be still running," said the old man,
undisturbed by the attack.

"And it's costing the Republican party something, this mix-up," Presson
went on.

"You think it looks expensive, taking the thing right now at apparent
face value?"

"Look here! I don't relish humor--not now! I'm not in a humorous mood.
You can see what it's costing--blast that infernal band!"

Mr. Spinney's serenaders had not had their fill of music. There was din
outside. The tune, "A Hot Time in the Old Town To-night," won a grunt
of approval from Mr. Wasgatt, still holding his documents, more pop-eyed
than ever.

"Pretty expensive, eh?" said the Duke, lifting his knee between his
hands and leaning back on the table. "You heard about--"

"I don't want any more of your cussed stories! Not