"I am taking Miss Waldron home," said Mr. Amidon. "Matters have just taken such a turn that I shall leave soon for my former home in Wisconsin, where I have large interests, and I may not be able to return. Such being the case, we do not feel that it would be just to the people of this city to continue in the position of a candidate for public office, and--pshaw! why not be honest? We're beaten, and we don't want the office, anyhow. Judge, have you that letter of withdrawal convenient?" [Illustration: "I am taking Miss Waldron home," said Mr. Amidon.] "I have," said the judge. "I figured all the time that you'd need it." "Thanks!" said Amidon. "Take it, Mr. Alvord, and give it to the world at large. You understand, do you not, the peculiar change of personality which makes it improper----?" "Sure," said Alvord. "The man who put out that platform of ours can't afford to be caught short-changing the public by switching candidates on them on the eve of election. And right here let me say, that be it Amidon or Brassfield, the ties of brotherhood still hold with Jim Alvord, in F. D. and B., and I hate to use this letter. I believe still we could pull through, with proper management from now on, and, confound it! I'd rather be licked with you than to win with any other man on earth!" "In all phases of my life," said Amidon, grasping the little man's hand warmly, "I'm going to take the liberty of holding you as my friend. I know faithfulness and unselfishness when I see it, no matter if I don't quite fall in with its methods." Alvord's eyes filled, as his emotions rose with the parting. Yet he could not allow his methods to be questioned even by implication. "Well, now, as to methods," he began, "theoretically you may be right about publicity and that platform, but practically--well, let's forget it! But, 'Gene--or whatever your damned name is!--don't forget me! Good-by!" The judge, the professor, Miss Scarlett, and all the rest had gone on their various ways, and Madame le Claire was in one of the inner rooms attended by Aaron, whom she had summoned. "I'm not going to adopt poor Jim's language yet," said Elizabeth, when she and Florian were again left alone. "'Florian, Florian!'--I like that name. But think how hard it was to learn to call you 'Eugene.' Do you remember where we were when I first called you that?" "Don't you realize, dearie," said he, "that I know nothing of all that? And except for your sweet letter, I knew nothing of you before that day when I came from New York?" "O----h!" she cried. "And all the lovely things you did to win me---- Oh, dear, I never thought of that. And you remember nothing--nothing at all? Oh, it is dreadful, dreadful! No wonder I almost hated you that night!" He put his arm about her and kissed her lingeringly. "Dearest! Sweetheart!" he said. "The loss is all mine! And to make up for it, you must let me do them all over again--every one, a thousand times. Come, let us go!"