f course, are Mr. Corkey, my husband's political opponent?"

"That's what I am, or was, madam; and you ain't no sorrier for that
than me."

"The boy and you escaped?"

"I guess so."

"Now, Mr. Corkey, tell me why Mr. Lockwin went to Owen Sound?"

"I can't do that, nohow; and the less said about it the better. It
would let a big political cat out of the bag."

"Politics! Was that the reason?"

"That's what it _was_, your honor, madam."

"Can you tell me something about my poor husband?"

It is a figure that by its mere presence over-awes Corkey. Of all
women, he admires the heroic mold. The garb is black beyond the man's
conception of mourning. The face is chastened with days of mental
torture. There is an intoxication of grief in the aspect of the woman
that hangs the house in woe.

The mascot slips away from Corkey. The Special Survivor is drifting
into an open sea of sentiment. He feels he shall drown.

Yet the beautiful face seems to take pity on him--seems to read the
heart which beats under that burry, bristly form--seems to reach forth
a hand.

"Exactly as we catched onto Lockwin," thinks the grateful Corkey.

"It comes mighty hard for me, Mrs. Lockwin, for I never expected to be
his friend, nohow. He was an aristocratic duck, and I will say that I
thought it was his bar'l that beat me."

The widow is striving so hard to understand that the man speaks more
slowly.

"But I meet him at Owen Sound. Between you and me he was to fix
me--see?"

The woman does not see.

"You mustn't say it to nobody, but I went to Georgian Bay to show him
my slate."

"Is it politics?"

"That's what it is, and it's mighty dirty work. But I don't think your
husband was no politician."

It is a compliment, and the woman so receives it.

"He was late, and the old tub was rubbing the pier away when the
jackleg train arrive."

"The st-st-steamer was wa-wa-waiting," explained the boy.

"Ah! yes," nods the listener.

"You see, the coon can't talk," says Corkey, "but he's got any number
of points. Well, we wet our whistles, and it's raw stuff they sell
over there--but you don't know nothing about that. I introduce him to
the outfit, and we go aboard. We eat, but he don't eat nothing. I
notice that. We take the lounge in the fore-cabin. You know where
that would be?"

A nod, and Corkey is well pleased.

"We sit there all the time. I want to tell you just how he did. He
sit back, out straight,