Again David's memory was bridging the past to unveil that vivid picture of the patient-eyed woman bending over the tub, and the pity for her was hurting him more than the cruel banner which was flaunting the fact before a jeering, applauding crowd. Mrs. Winthrop gave him a covert glance. She had great pride in her lineage, and her well-laid plans for her daughter's future did not include David Dunne in their scope, but she was ever responsive to distress. Before the look in his eyes every sensation save that of sympathy left her, and she went to him as she would have gone to a child of her own that had been hurt. "David," she said tenderly, laying her hand on his arm, "any woman in the world might be glad to take in washing to bring up a boy to be such a man as you are!" Deeply moved and surprised, he looked into her brimming eyes and met there the look he had sometimes seen in the eyes of his mother, of M'ri, and once in the eyes of Janey. Moved by an irresistible impulse, he stooped and kissed her. The situation was relieved of its tenseness. "I think, Joe," said David, speaking collectedly, "we had better go to headquarters. Knowles will be looking for me." "Sure," assented Joe, eager to get into action. "Carey," said David in a low voice, as he was leaving. As she turned to him, an impetuous rush of new life leaped torrent-like in his heart. Her eyes met his slowly, and for a moment he felt a pleasure acute with the exquisiteness of pain. Such sensations are usually transient, and in another moment he had himself well in hand. "I want to say good night," he said quietly, "and--" "Will you come here to-morrow at eleven?" she asked hurriedly. "There is something I want to say to you." "I know that you are sorry for me." "That isn't what I mean to say." A wistful but imperious message was flashed to him from her eyes. "I will come," he replied gravely. When he reached headquarters he found the committee dismayed and distracted. Like Wilder, they counseled a sweeping denial, but David was firm. "It is true," he reiterated. "It will cost us the vote of a certain element," predicted the chairman, "and we haven't one to spare." David listened to a series of similar sentiments until Knowles--a new Knowles--came in. The usual blank placidity of his face was rippled by radiant exultation. "David," he announced, "before that parade started to-night I had made out another conservative estimate, and thought I could pull you through by a slight majority. Now, it's different. While you may lose some votes from the 'near-silk stocking' class, yet for every vote so lost hundreds will rally to you. That all men are created equal is still a truth held to be self-evident. The spark of the spirit that prompted the Declaration of Independence is always ready to be fanned to a flame, and the Democrats have furnished us the fans in their flying pennants."