ss and all his works."

Sprague flung out his thin hands impatiently.

"I have told you that it rests with me."

The tyro dropped an acute, if indiscreet, observation.

"It seems to me," said he, "that you are something of a boss yourself."

"Every cause must have a leader. I have been the consistent head and
front of the protest against Shelbyism, and the independent movement is
of my creating. Why shouldn't I name the candidate?"

Bernard Graves retreated hastily from this ticklish corner, and put
forward a vague supposition that there would have to be "caucuses,
conventions, and things."

"Independent nominations are made by certificate."

"Oh," said the young man, meekly, "I see;" which was disingenuous. He
silently debated whether this meant a species of letter of
recommendation, but was shy of asking.

Sprague mercifully enlightened him.

"I've the law right here," he went on, tapping a calf-bound manual
which Graves eyed with profound respect. "An independent nomination
for Congress requires at least a thousand signers who must be electors
of the district. We've ample time; it's a good three weeks before we
need file our certificate with the Secretary of State, and a fortnight
would answer to secure the minimum. But we'll not content ourselves
with the minimum; the greater our list of signers, the stronger our
argument in the campaign. Voters are gregarious, you know."

"I've noticed the importance of bell-wethers," Graves remarked dryly.

"Oh, but don't asperse the intelligence of the flock," deprecated the
reformer quickly. "I've been thought to idealize The People; perhaps I
do, but it is good for a man to keep sweet his faith in humanity.
There's a saying of Emerson's that fits the case if I could remember
it." He scoured his memory absently for an interval. "Well, no
matter. It occurs to me that we'll need an emblem for our ticket. The
law requires us to select some device. The eagles, ballot-boxes,
roosters, stars, and the like have all been preempted, and aren't
strikingly significant anyhow. We want something telling--a graphic
symbol of our aim. You are a man of imagination; what is your notion?"

The man of imagination considered, and the editor's excess of nervous
force spent itself in idle forays about his desk, one of which brought
forth a foot-rule; whirling in the eager fingers, it proved an
inspiration.

"Why not--" Graves began; "no, not that--a square, a carpenter'