nd womanly dignity that all
noticed at once, and to which they gave tribute. It melted the heart of
Jimmy Grayson, who knew so well the reason why, and he was glad now that
his wife had written to "King" Plummer.

Sylvia said nothing about Mr. Plummer; if she knew whether he would
return and when, she kept it to herself, and Mrs. Grayson, who was
waiting in anxiety for an answer to her letter--an answer that did not
come--was in a state of apprehension, which she hid, however, from all
except Mr. Grayson. This agitation was increased by an event in her
husband's career, so unexpected in its nature and so extraordinary that
it was the sensation of the country, and exercised an unfavorable
influence upon the campaign. If any one in the United States, whether
friend or enemy, had been asked if such a thing could occur, he would
have said that it was impossible.

In their travels they came presently to Egmont, a snug town, lying in a
hollow of the land, from which they were going to conduct what Hobart
called a circular campaign--that is, it was the centre from which they
were to make journeys to a ring of smaller places lying in a circle
about it, returning late at night for sleep and rest.

They were all pleased with Egmont; though less than ten years old, it
had houses of brick and stone, a trim look, and the smoothness of life
and comfort that usually come only with age. It was a pleasure to return
to it every night from the newer and cruder villages in the outer ring,
and enjoy good beds and fresh sheets.

But the candidate spoke first in Egmont, and the chairman of the
committee that managed the meeting was the solid man of the town. Harley
and his comrades required no information on this point; it was visible
at once in the important manner of the Honorable John Anderson, the cool
way in which he assumed authority, and his slight air of patronage when
he came in contact with the correspondents. Harley and his comrades only
laughed; they had often noticed the same bearing in men much better
known in the world than the Honorable John Anderson, of Egmont, Montana,
and they generally set it down as one of the faults of success;
therefore they could smile.

But Mr. Anderson was hospitable, insisting that the candidate and his
family, instead of spending the first night at the hotel, should go with
him to his house. "I have room and to spare," he said, with a slight
touch of importance. "My house will be honored if it