the box sending the speech
to the world that was waiting for it. Perhaps you do not know that if he
had not helped us to-night the world would have had to wait too long."

They dragged young Moore, amid the cheers, upon the stage, and then,
when the hush came, the candidate said:

"You seem to know him already; but as all the speaking of the evening is
now over, I wish to introduce to you again Mr. Charlie Moore, the
greatest telegraph-operator in the West, the genius of the key, a man
destined to rise to the highest place in his profession."

When the last echo of the last cheer died, there died with it the last
ambition of Charlie Moore to be a spellbinder, and straight before him,
broad, smooth, and alluring, lay the road for which his feet were
fitted.

But the words most grateful to Jimmy Grayson were the thanks of the
fledgling's father. The little drama of the side-box and the
telegraph-key was known to but five people--the candidate, Harley, the
two operators, and happy Mr. Moore. The old gentleman, indeed, said
something about Mr. Grayson having helped him, but it was taken by the
others to mean that a mere chance, a lucky combination of circumstances,
had come to his aid, and they failed to see in it anything of
prearrangement or even intention. Hence there appeared on the surface
nothing to be criticised even by Churchill, ever on the lookout for an
incident that seemed to him incongruous or irrelevant.

Harley made it an excuse for something that he wished very much to do.
About this time Mrs. Grayson, returning from Salt Lake City, rejoined
them, but she did not bring Sylvia with her, leaving her in the Mormon
capital for a further stay with relatives. But Harley wrote a long
letter to Sylvia, beginning with the story of the spellbinder, and he
told her that his admiration for the candidate steadily increased,
because Mr. Grayson was able, at all times, even in the heat of the
hottest campaign that the Union had ever known, to put the highest
attributes of the human heart--mercy, gentleness, help--before his own
political good or even that of his party. Mr. Grayson might be beaten,
but he would make a record that must become a source of pride, not to
his party alone, but to the whole country. In fact, Mr. Grayson belonged
to humanity, and the race might lay claim to him as one of its finest
types.

Then from Mr. Grayson he glided to the other, and, to Harley, greater
topic--herself. He told her that