oth places, and
anxiously longed for a sight of John Thomas's red face, vote or no
vote.

At four o'clock John Thomas awoke much refreshed, but very hungry. He
went into the house in search of something to eat. Milton and his wife
had gone into town many hours before, but he found what he wanted, and
was going back to the hay-mow to finish his sleep, just as Billy Adams
was going home after having cast his vote.

Billy Adams seized him eagerly, and rapidly drove back to town. Jack's
vote would yet be saved to the party!

It was with pardonable pride that Billy Adams reined in his foaming
team, and rushed John Thomas into the polling booth, where he was
greeted with loud cheers. Nobody dare ask him where he had been--time
was too precious. Milton Kennedy, scrutineer, lifted his eyebrows as
per agreement. Jack replied with a petulant shrug of his good shoulder
and passed in to the inner chamber.

The Conservatives were sure they had him. The Liberals were sure, too.
Mrs. Angus was sure Jack would vote right after the way she had
reasoned with him and showed him!

When the ballots were counted, there were several spoiled ones, of
course. But there was one that was rather unique. After the name of
Thomas Brown, there was written in lead pencil, "_None of yer
business_!" which might have indicated a preference for the other name
of John Hastings, only for the fact that opposite his name was the curt
remark, "_None of yer business, either_!"

Some thought the ballot was John Thomas Green's.

THE WAY OF THE WEST

(Reprinted by permission of _The Globe_, Toronto.)

Thomas Shouldice was displeased, sorely, bitterly displeased: in fact,
he was downright mad, and being an Irish Orangeman, this means that he
was ready to fight. You can imagine just how bitterly Mr. Shouldice was
incensed when you hear that the Fourth of July had been celebrated with
flourish of flags and blare of trumpets right under his very nose--in
Canada--in British dominions!

The First of July, the day that should have been given up to "doin's,"
including the race for the greased pig, the three-legged race, and a
ploughing match, had passed into obscurity, without so much as a
pie-social; and it had rained that day, too, in torrents, just as if
Nature herself did not care enough about the First to try to keep it dry.

The Fourth came in a glorious day, all sunshine and blue sky, with
birds singing in every poplar bluff, and it was given su