affected. As quick as he got his
breath he hollered right out loud's he could: 'The Truro Bill's up in the
House, boys. We're skun if you don't git thar quick.' Then they tell me'
the lightnin' rod give way; anyhow, he came down on Randall's gravel roof
considerable hard, I take it."

Mr. Hartington, apparently, had an aggravating way of falling into
mournful revery and of forgetting his subject. Mr. Bixby was forced to
jog him again.

"Yes, they did," he said, "they did. They come out like the theatre was
afire. There was some delay in gettin' to the street, but not much--not
much. All the Republican Clubs in the state couldn't have held 'em then,
and the profanity they used wahn't especially edifyin'."

"Peleg's a deacon--you understand," said Mr. Bixby. "Say, Peleg, where
was Al Lovejoy?"

"Lovejoy come along with the first of 'em. Must have hurried some--they
tell me he was settin' way down in front alongside of Alvy Hopkins's gal,
and when Airley hollered out she screeched and clutched on to Al, and Al
said somethin' he hadn't ought to and tore off one of them pink gew-gaws
she was covered with. He was the maddest man I ever see. Some of the club
was crowded inside, behind the seats, standin' up to see the show. Al was
so anxious to git through he hit Si Dudley in the mouth--injured him
some, I guess. Pity, wahn't it?"

"Si hain't in politics, you understand," said Mr. Bixby. "Callate Si paid
to git in there, didn't he, Peleg?"

"Callate he did," assented Senator Hartington.

A long and painful pause followed. There seemed, indeed, nothing more to
be said. The sound of applause floated out of the Opera House doors,
around which the remaining loiterers were clustered.

"Goin' in, be you, Peleg?" inquired Mr. Bixby.

Mr. Hartington shook his head.

"Will and me had a notion to see somethin' of the show," said Mr. Bixby,
almost apologetically. "I kep' my ticket."

"Well," said Mr. Hartington, reflectively, "I guess you'll find some of
the show left. That hain't b'en hurt much, so far as I can ascertain."

The next afternoon, when Mr. Isaac D. Worthington happened to be sitting
alone in the office of the Truro Railroad at the capital, there came a
knock at the door, and Mr. Bijah Bixby entered. Now, incredible as it may
seem, Mr. Worthington did not know Mr. Bixby--or rather, did not remember
him. Mr. Worthington had not had at that time much of an experience in
politics, and he did not possess a very go