gh the place might be, there was a
feeling for fine things, and he felt a kindred glow.

They were rather quiet when they drove back towards the hotel, but she
spoke at last of her uncle James and his speech that night, which might
justify the expectations of either his friends or his enemies. There had
grown up lately in the theatrical world a practice of "trying a new
piece on the dog"--that is, of presenting it first in some small town
which was not too particular--but now the political world was moving
differently in this particular case. The candidate was to make his first
appearance in one of the greatest of cities, before two million people,
so to speak, and the ordeal would be so severe that Harley found himself
apprehensive for Jimmy Grayson's sake. The feeling was shared by his
niece.

"You don't think he will fail, do you?" she said, in an appealing tone
to Hobart.

"Fail!" replied that irrepressible optimist. "He can't fail! The bigger
the crowd the better he will rise to the occasion."

But she did not seem to be wholly convinced by Hobart's cheerfulness,
which was too general in its nature--that is, inclusive of
everything--and turned to Harley and Tremaine as if seeking
confirmation.

"It will be a terrible test," said Harley, frankly, "but I feel sure
that Mr. Grayson will pass it with glory. He is a born orator, and he
has courage."

"I thank you for your belief," she said, giving Harley a swift glance of
gratitude, and unaccountably he felt a pleasing glow at the first
gracious words she had ever spoken to him.

"I could not bear it if he failed," she continued. "He is my uncle, and
he is our own Western man. What things would be in the newspapers
to-morrow!"

"If Mr. Grayson should fail to-night, he would recover himself at his
second speech; he has your spirit, you know," said the ancient Tremaine.

But she did not seem to relish his elderly gallantry. "How do you know I
have spirit?" she asked. "I have done nothing to indicate it."

"I inferred it," replied he, bowing, but she only lifted her chin
incredulously, and Tremaine subsided, his suppression giving Harley some
quiet enjoyment.

They returned, chiefly in silence, to the hotel. The dusk was coming
down over the great city, and with it a grayish mist that hid the walls
of the buildings, although the electric lights in lofty stories twinkled
through it like signal-fires from hill-tops. Miss Morgan seemed subdued,
and at the hotel