election," she observed,
placidly.

"Politics be darned!" he broke out, forgetting the teachings of Mr.
Clinche. "Now, Mem, dun't ye muddle the mester's brain t'-night wi' 't,
I say. I'm goin' t' 'xperiment myself a bit."

Which he did, accordingly,--shutting himself up in the smoke-house, and
burning the compound in divers sconces and Wide-Awake torches, giving up
the entire night to his diabolical orgies.

Mrs. Howth did not tell the master, for one reason: it took a long time
for so stupendous an idea to penetrate the good lady's brain; and for
another: her motherly heart was touched by another story than this
Aladdin's lamp of Joel's wherein burned petroleum. She watched from her
window until she saw Holmes crossing the icy road: there was a little
bitterness, I confess, in the thought that he had taken her child from
her; but the prayer that rose for them both took her whole woman's heart
with it, and surely will be answered.

The road was rough over the hills; the wind that struck Holmes's face
bitingly keen: perhaps the life coming for him would be as cold a
struggle, having not only poverty to conquer, but himself. But he is a
strong man,--no stronger puts his foot down with cool, resolute tread;
and to-night there is a thrill on his lips that never rested there
before,--a kiss, dewy and warm. Something, too, stirs in his heart, like
a subtile atom of pure fire, that he hugs closely,--his for all time. No
poverty or death shall ever drive it away. Perhaps he entertains an
angel unaware.

After that night Lois never left her little shanty. The days that
followed were like one long Christmas; for her poor neighbors, black and
white, had some plot among themselves, and worked zealously to make them
seem so to her. It was easy to make these last days happy for the simple
little soul who had always gathered up every fragment of pleasure in her
featureless life, and made much of it, and rejoiced over it. She grew
bewildered, sometimes, lying on her wooden settle by the fire; people
had always been friendly, taken care of her, but now they were eager in
their kindness, as though the time were short. She did not understand
the reason, at first; she did not want to die: yet if it hurt her, when
it grew clear at last, no one knew it; it was not her way to speak of
pain. Only, as she grew weaker, day by day, she began to set her house
in order, as one might say, in a quaint, almost comical fashion, giving
away every