ompany
was "the Grand Old Party"--

And here the band began to play, and Jurgis sat up with a violent
start. Singular as it may seem, Jurgis was making a desperate effort
to understand what the senator was saying--to comprehend the extent of
American prosperity, the enormous expansion of American commerce, and
the Republic's future in the Pacific and in South America, and wherever
else the oppressed were groaning. The reason for it was that he wanted
to keep awake. He knew that if he allowed himself to fall asleep
he would begin to snore loudly; and so he must listen--he must be
interested! But he had eaten such a big dinner, and he was so exhausted,
and the hall was so warm, and his seat was so comfortable! The senator's
gaunt form began to grow dim and hazy, to tower before him and dance
about, with figures of exports and imports. Once his neighbor gave him
a savage poke in the ribs, and he sat up with a start and tried to look
innocent; but then he was at it again, and men began to stare at him
with annoyance, and to call out in vexation. Finally one of them called
a policeman, who came and grabbed Jurgis by the collar, and jerked him
to his feet, bewildered and terrified. Some of the audience turned to
see the commotion, and Senator Spareshanks faltered in his speech; but a
voice shouted cheerily: "We're just firing a bum! Go ahead, old sport!"
And so the crowd roared, and the senator smiled genially, and went on;
and in a few seconds poor Jurgis found himself landed out in the rain,
with a kick and a string of curses.

He got into the shelter of a doorway and took stock of himself. He was
not hurt, and he was not arrested--more than he had any right to expect.
He swore at himself and his luck for a while, and then turned his
thoughts to practical matters. He had no money, and no place to sleep;
he must begin begging again.

He went out, hunching his shoulders together and shivering at the touch
of the icy rain. Coming down the street toward him was a lady, well
dressed, and protected by an umbrella; and he turned and walked beside
her. "Please, ma'am," he began, "could you lend me the price of a
night's lodging? I'm a poor working-man--"

Then, suddenly, he stopped short. By the light of a street lamp he had
caught sight of the lady's face. He knew her.

It was Alena Jasaityte, who had been the belle of his wedding feast!
Alena Jasaityte, who had looked so beautiful, and danced with such a
queenly air, with J