ion, her facial
expression evincing appreciation of Newton's efforts in the line of
groans, somewhat touched with awe. Even though regarded as a pure matter
of make-believe, such sounds were terrible.

"Oh, sister, sister!" howled Newton, "run and tell 'em that brother's
dying!"

Fanny disappeared in a manner which expressed her balanced feelings--she
felt that her brother was making believe, but she believed for all that,
that something awful was the matter. So she went rather slowly to the
kitchen door, and casually remarked that Newton was dying on the sofa in
the sitting-room.

"You little fraud!" said her father.

"Why, Fanny!" said her mother--and ran into the sitting-room--whence in a
moment, with a cry that was almost a scream, she summoned her husband, who
responded at the top of his speed.

Newton was groaning and in convulsions. Horrible grimaces contorted his
face, his jaws were set, his arms and legs drawn up, and his muscles
tense.

"What's the matter?" His father's voice was stern as well as full of
anxiety. "What's the matter, boy?"

"Oh!" cried Newton. "Oh! Oh! Oh!"

"Newtie, Newtie!" cried his mother, "where are you in pain? Tell mother,
Newtie!"

"Oh," groaned Newtie, relaxing, "I feel awful!"

"What you been eating?" interrogated his father.

"Nothing," replied Newton.

"I saw you eatin' dinner," said his father.

Again Newton was convulsed by strong spasms, and again his groans filled
the hearts of his parents with terror.

"That's all I've eaten," said he, when his spasms had passed, "except a
few raisins. I was putting strychnine in 'em----"

"Oh, heavens!" cried his mother. "He's poisoned! Drive for the doctor,
Ezra! Drive!"

Mr. Bronson forgot all about the election--forgot everything save
antidotes and speed. He leaped toward the door. As he passed out, he
shouted "Give him an emetic!" He tore the hitching straps from the posts,
jumped into the buggy and headed for the road. Skilfully avoiding an
overturn as he rounded into the highway, he gave the spirited horses their
heads, and fled toward town, carefully computing the speed the horses
could make and still be able to return. Mile after mile he covered,
passing teams, keeping ahead of automobiles and advertising panic. Just at
the town limits, he met the doctor in Sheriff Dilly's automobile, the
sheriff himself at the steering wheel. Mr. Bronson signaled them to stop,
ignoring the fact that they were making similar signs