retion in managing this. He tells me solemnly that nobody
on earth knows his intentions except you, Allen, and me. He's saving
himself for a broadside, and he wants its full dramatic effect."

Sylvia had hardly spoken during this discussion; but the others looked
at her curiously as she said:--

"I don't think he has it to fire; it's incredible; I don't believe it."

"Neither do I, Sylvia," said the minister earnestly.

The talk at the Wares' went badly that evening. Harwood's mind was on
the political situation. As he sat in the minister's library he knew
that in upper chambers of the State House, and in hotels and
boarding-houses, members of the majority in twos and threes, or here and
there a dozen, were speculating and plotting. The deadlock was becoming
intolerable. Interest in the result was keen in all parts of the
country, and the New York and Chicago newspapers had sent special
representatives to watch the fight. Dan was sick of the sight and sound
of it. In the strict alignment of factions he had voted with Thatcher,
yet he told himself he was not a Thatcher man. He had personally
projected Ramsay's name one night in the hope of breaking the Bassett
phalanx, but the only result was to arouse Thatcher's wrath against him.
Bassett's men believed in Bassett. The old superstition as to his
invulnerability had never more thoroughly possessed the imaginations of
his adherents. Bassett was not only himself again, but his iron grip
seemed tighter than ever He was making the fight of his life, and he was
beyond question a "game" fighter, the opposition newspapers that most
bitterly opposed Bassett tempered their denunciations with this
concession Dan fumed at this, such bosses were always game fighters,
they had to be, and the readiness of Americans to admire the gameness of
the Bassetts deepened his hostility. The very use of sporting
terminology in politics angered him. In his mind the case was docketed
not as Thatcher _versus_ Bassett, but as Thatcher and Bassett _versus_
the People. It all came to that. And why should not the People--the
poor, meek, long-suffering People, the "pee-pul" of familiar
derision--sometimes win? His pride in the state of his birth was strong;
his pride in his party was only second to it. He would serve both if he
could. Not only must Bassett be forever put down, but Thatcher also; and
he assured himself that it was not the men he despised, but the
wretched, brutal mediaeval system that