"The notifying committee will be here in a few minutes," he said. "Ah, I
hear their step on the stair now."

The tread of men walking quickly and the sound of voices raised in
eagerness came to the room. The powerful figure of Jimmy Grayson
trembled slightly, then grew rigid.

"I did not dream of it," he said, as if to himself; "nor have I now
sought to take it from others."

"Nor have you done so," said Harley, boldly; "because it belonged to no
man."

Mrs. Grayson stepped forward, as if in fear that her husband was about
to be taken from her, because at that moment the volume of the voices
and the trampling increased and paused at her door. Then the crowd
poured into the room and hailed the victor.

Harley slipped to one side, and no one in the committee knew that the
nominee had been notified already, but the correspondent never ceased to
watch Jimmy Grayson. He saw how the nature of the man rose to the great
responsibility that had been put upon him, how he nerved himself for his
mighty task. He stood among them all, cool, dignified, and ready. Harley
was proud that this was one of his countrymen, and when his last
despatch was filed that night he wired to his editor in New York:
"Please send me on the campaign with Grayson. I think it is going to be
a great one." And back came the answer: "Stay with him until it is all
over, election night."

The eyes of Harley, like those of so many of his countrymen, had always
been turned eastward. To him New York was the ultimate expression of
America, and beyond the great city lay the influence of Europe, of that
Old World to which belonged the most of art and literature. The books
that he read were written chiefly by Europeans, and the remainder by the
men of New England and New York. He had never put it into so many words,
even mentally, but he had a definite impression that the great world of
affairs was composed of central and western Europe and a half-dozen
Northern coast states of the American Union; beyond this centre of light
lay a shadow land, growing darker as the distance from the central rays
increased, inhabited by people, worthy no doubt, but merely forming a
chorus for those who had the speaking parts.

The course of Harley's life confirmed him in this opinion, which perhaps
was due more to literature than to anything else. With his eyes fixed
on New York, the desire to go there followed, and when he succeeded,
early, and became the correspondent of a g