s out of breath.

"Who has done what?" demanded Mr. Converse, with equal crispness.

"Farr. You're nominated for governor. Acclamation! He's a wiz with his
tongue." Mr. Breed pursed his little mouth and "sipped" with gusto.
"Some talker! Don't ever tell me that good talk doesn't win when the
right man makes it at the right time."

Mr. Converse rose and stood--a rigid statue of consternation and
protest. "Do you mean to come in here and tell me that I have been
nominated by that state convention? Without my sanction? Without my
consent?"

"Sure thing! Easy work! Played all the tricks. Made believe he was
green. Poked rights and lefts to Harwood's jaw. Had himself paged as
a murderer--at least, I reckon it was his own get-up. It cinched the
thing, anyway. He understands human nature."

But Mr. Converse did not in the least understand this talk. "Look here,
Breed, you haven't gone crazy yourself, along with the rest, have you?"

"Nobody's crazy. People have simply woke up."

"I'll be eternally condemned if I--"

"That's right! You will be if you don't button up your coat and go over
to the hall along with that notification committee that's probably on
the way, give the folks your best bow, and say you'll take the job.
We're some little team when we get started."

"You're an infernal steer team, and you have dragged me into a mess of
trouble," declared Mr. Converse, with venom.

"Glad you're in," retorted the imperturbable Breed. "A man needs more or
less trouble so as to round himself out; I've been having some troubles
of my own. Whatever job you give me after you're elected, don't put me
back with them stuffed animals. Harwood made his mistake right there!"

"It has begun already, has it?" asked Converse, indignantly.
"Office-seekers at it?"

"Sure thing!" responded Mr. Breed, amiably. "When you cool down you'll
remember that I got to you first with the good news."

Five minutes later the Honorable Archer Converse, muttering, but more
calm, was marching toward the convention hall in the company of a proud
committee of notification.

He walked out upon the platform and waited for the wild tumult of
greeting to subside, and while he waited he searched the assemblage with
stern scrutiny to find the face of Walker Farr.

But that young worker of miracles was not in evidence.

He had risen with the others when the band began to blare the music
which signaled the approach of the nominee.

Once more he turn