had risen to his feet, and a signal look passed between him and
the candidate.

"And then," said Jimmy Grayson, "why do you deny to Henry Eversley the
right to do what you did, and what you still glory in after all these
years? Mr. Simpson, shake hands with your new son-in-law. He and his
bride are waiting in the doorway."

The old man sprang to his feet. His daughter and a youth, a handsome
couple, stood at the entrance. Behind them were three or four men, one
the driver, and another in clerical garb, evidently a minister.

"They were married in your front parlor while we sat at breakfast," said
Jimmy Grayson. "Mr. Simpson, your son-in-law is still offering you his
hand."

The bewildered look left the old man's eyes, and he took the
outstretched hand in a hearty grasp.

"Henry," he said, "you've won."

X

THE "KING'S" REQUEST

An hour later the candidate, Harley, and the driver were on the way to
the town at which they had intended to pass the preceding night. With
ample instructions and a brilliant morning sunlight there was no further
trouble about the direction, and they pursued their way in peace.

The air was crisp and blowy, and the earth, new-washed by the rain, took
on some of the tints of spring green, despite the lateness of the
season. Harley, relaxed from the tension of the night before, leaned
back in his seat and enjoyed the tonic breeze. No one of the three had
much to say; all were in meditation, and the quiet and loneliness of the
morning seemed to promote musing. They drove some miles across the
rolling prairie without seeing a single house, but at last the driver
pointed to a flickering patch of gold on the western horizon.

"That," said he, "is the weather-vane on the cupola of the new
court-house, and in another hour we'll be in town. I guess your people
will be glad to see you, Mr. Grayson."

"And I shall be glad to see them," said the candidate. A few minutes
later he turned to the correspondent.

"Harley," he asked, "will you send anything to your paper about last
night?"

"I have to do so," replied Harley, with a slight note of apology in his
tone--this had not been his personal doing. "For a presidential
candidate to get lost on the prairie in the dark and the storm, and then
spend the night in a house in which only his presence of mind and
eloquence prevent a murder, that is news--news of the first importance
and the deepest interest. I am bound not only to send a des