"There's summat in the air," reported Andrew. "Much blust'ring; the square is crowded! Whilst I was signing the laddie's book Lanigan cried me the word for ye to look sharp and keep the promise, else he wouldna answer for a'!" "Gentlemen, I'll let you construe your own contracts according to your consciences. I have one of my own to carry out. Mac Tavish has just handed me a jolt on it! "Governor North, seeing that your contract with the state is temporarily suspended, I suppose we'll have to excuse you to some extent, after all! Mac Tavish, step here, close to me!" The old man obeyed; the two stood in the full glare of the chandelier. Stewart held up his right hand. "You're a notary public, Andrew. Administer an oath! Like that one you administered to me when I was sworn in as mayor of Marion. You can remember the gist of it." "In what capaceety do you serve, Master Morrison?" inquired Mac Tavish, stolidly. Stewart hesitated a moment, taking thought. "I'm going to volunteer as a sort of an Executive, gentlemen," he explained, deferentially. "The exigency seems to need one. I have heard that a good Executive is one who acts quickly and is right--part of the time! I'm indebted to Senator Corson for a suggestion he made a little while ago. I think, Mac Tavish, you'd better swear me in as Boss of the Job." XVI THE CITY OF MARION SEEKS ITS MAYOR Gaiety's glaring brilliancy on Corson Hill had been effectually snuffed by the onslaught of the mob. The mansion hid its lights behind shades and shutters. The men of the orchestra had packed their instruments; the dismayed guests put on their wraps and called for their carriages. In the place of lilting violins and merry tongues, hammers clattered and saws rasped; the servants were boarding up the broken windows. Lana Corson, closeted with Mrs. Stanton, found the discord below-stairs peculiarly hateful; it suggested so much, replacing the music. The rude hand of circumstance had been laid so suddenly on the melody of life! "And I'll say again--" pursued Mrs. Stanton, breaking a silence that had lain between the two. "Don't say it again! Don't! Don't!" It was indignant expostulation instead of supplication and the matron instantly exhibited relief. "Thank goodness, Lana! Your symptoms are fine! You're past the crisis and are on the mend. Get angrier! Stay angry! It's a healthy sign in any woman recovering from such a relapse as has been threatening you since you came back home." "Will you not drop the topic?" demanded Miss Corson, with as much menace as a maiden could display by tone and demeanor. "As your nurse in this period of convalescence," insisted the imperturbable lady, "I find your temperature encouraging. The higher the better, in a case like this! But I'd like to register on your chart a hard-and-fast declaration from you that you'll never again expose yourself to infection from the same quarter!" Lana did not make that declaration; she did not reply to her friend.