id footsteps, and so familiar was Bradley with the sidewalk that
he knew exactly where the runners were by the different note given out
by each section of planking. They were crossing the street. Now they
came across the warped and clattering length before the butcher shop.
Then over the crisp, solid planking before Robie's. Then came a rush up
the stairway, and Milton and young Mason burst into the room.

"Hurrah, we've carried you through! You're elected, sure as guns!"

"Three cheers for Democracy and progress," shouted the Judge, in high
excitement, from the open windows. They were given with tremendous
vigor by the crowd from below and the band struck up "Hail Columbia."

* * * * *

It was two o'clock when Bradley and the Judge got away from the crowd
and went home to bed. They found Mrs. Brown sitting up. With the
customary thoughtlessness of men, neither of them had taken her anxiety
into account.

"Well, Mrs. Brown, are you up?"

"Yes, Mr. Brown; I wanted to hear the news. You didn't suppose I could
go to bed without it," she replied calmly, though she was trembling
with eagerness.

"Well, we're elected, Mrs. Brown," said the Judge proudly.

She came up to Bradley timidly, a longing mixed with pride expressed in
her face. Bradley took her in his arms, and laid her cheek on his
shoulder. She stood before him like a mother now. He felt her pride in
him, and she had grown very dear to him.

XVIII.

"DON'T BLOW OUT THE GAS."

Des Moines appeared to Bradley to be very great and very noisy. It was
the largest city he had ever seen. He was born in Eastern Wisconsin on
a farm, and his early life had been spent far from any populous centre;
very largely, indeed, in the timber-lands. He had been in Lacrosse,
that is to say, he changed cars there, and Rock River and Iowa City
were the only towns he had ever lived in.

He had the preconception that Des Moines was a fine city, but its
streets seemed endless to him that cold, clear night that he got off
the train and walked up the sidewalk. He had been told to go right to
the Windom House, because there was the legislative headquarters. He
walked, carrying his valise in his hand, and looking furtively about
him. He knew he ought not to do so, but the life about him and the
endless rows of vast buildings fascinated him--drew his attention
constantly.

The portico of the hotel awed him with its red sandstone magni