freedom.
But under the circumstances I doubt if such an arrangement could be
made."

"We're going to try it, anyhow," was the prompt decision.

So as soon as breakfast was over the next morning Beth and Kenneth took
one of the automobiles, the boy consenting unwillingly to this sort of
locomotion because it would save much time. Fairview was twelve miles
away, but by ten o'clock they drew up at the county jail.

They were received in the little office by a man named Markham, who was
the jailer. He was a round-faced, respectable appearing fellow, but his
mood was distinctly unsociable.

"Want to see Tom Gates, eh? Well! what for?" he demanded.

"We wish to talk with him," answered Kenneth.

"Talk! what's the good? You're no friend of Tom Gates. I can't be
bothered this way, anyhow."

"I am Kenneth Forbes, of Elmhurst. I'm running for Representative on the
Republican ticket," said Kenneth, quietly.

"Oh, say! that's different," observed Markham, altering his demeanor.
"You mustn't mind my being gruff and grumpy, Mr. Forbes. I've just
stopped smoking a few days ago, and it's got on my nerves something
awful!"

"May we see Gates at once?" asked Kenneth.

"Sure-ly! I'll take you to his cell, myself. It's just shocking how such
a little thing as stoppin' smoking will rile up a fellow. Come this way,
please."

They followed the jailer along a succession of passages.

"Smoked ever sence I was a boy, you know, an' had to stop last week
because Doc said it would kill me if I didn't," remarked the jailer,
leading the way. "Sometimes I'm that yearning for a smoke I'm nearly
crazy, an' I dunno which is worst, dyin' one way or another. This is
Gates' cell--the best in the shop."

He unlocked the door, and called:

"Here's visitors, Tom."

"Thank you, Mr. Markham," replied a quiet voice, as a young man came
forward from the dim interior of the cell. "How are you feeling, today?"

"Worse, Tom; worse 'n ever," replied the jailer, gloomily.

"Well, stick it out, old man; don't give in."

"I won't, Tom. Smokin' 'll kill me sure, an' there's a faint hope o'
livin' through this struggle to give it up. This visitor is Mr. Forbes
of Elmhurst, an' the young lady is--"

"Miss DeGraf," said Kenneth, noticing the boy's face critically, as he
stood where the light from the passage fell upon it. "Will you leave us
alone, please, Mr. Markham?"

"Sure-ly, Mr. Forbes. You've got twenty minutes according to
regulations. I'll