me."

"Who are you for?" demanded Mr. Crewe, combating the tendency of the
conversation to slip into a pocket.

"Little early yet, hain't it? Hain't made up my mind. Who's the
candidates?" asks Mr. Jenney, continuing to stroke his beard.

"I don't know," says Mr. Crewe, "but I do know I've done something for
this town, and I hope you'll take it into consideration. Come and see me
when you go to the village. I'll give you a good cigar, and that
pamphlet, and we'll talk matters over."

"Never would have thought to see one of them things in my orchard," says
Mr. Jenney. "How much do they cost? Much as a locomotive, don't they?"

It would not be exact to say that, after some weeks of this sort of
campaigning, Mr. Crewe was discouraged, for such writhe vitality with
which nature had charged him that he did not know the meaning of the
word. He was merely puzzled, as a June-bug is puzzled when it bumps up
against a wire window-screen. He had pledged to him his own gardener,
Mrs. Pomfret's, the hired men of three of his neighbours, a few modest
souls who habitually took off their hats to him, and Mr. Ball, of the
village, who sold groceries to Wedderburn and was a general handy man for
the summer people. Mr. Ball was an agitator by temperament and a promoter
by preference. If you were a summer resident of importance and needed
anything from a sewing-machine to a Holstein heifer, Mr. Ball, the
grocer, would accommodate you. When Mrs. Pomfret's cook became inebriate
and refractory, Mr. Ball was sent for, and enticed her to the station and
on board of a train; when the Chillinghams' tank overflowed, Mr. Ball
found the proper valve and saved the house from being washed away. And it
was he who, after Mrs. Pomfret, took the keenest interest in Mr. Crewe's
campaign. At length came one day when Mr. Crewe pulled up in front of the
grocery store and called, as his custom was, loudly for Mr. Ball. The
fact that Mr. Ball was waiting on customers made no difference, and
presently that gentleman appeared, rubbing his hands together.

"How do you do, Mr. Crewe?" he said, "automobile going all right?"

"What's the matter with these fellers?" said Mr. Crewe. "Haven't I done
enough for the town? Didn't I get 'em rural free delivery? Didn't I
subscribe to the meeting-house and library, and don't I pay more taxes
than anybody else?"

"Certain," assented Mr. Ball, eagerly, "certain you do." It did not seem
to occur to him that it was unfair