“Oh, for the Lord’s sake, Sammy, slow down! Put on your brakes! What the dickens are you driving at, anyhow? Boom? What boom?” “Your boom, you idiot! The boom’s been started for you as Republican candidate for State senator against old man Gooch. It’s under way—nothing can head it off, absolutely nothing but death or an earthquake. The County Chairman hit the ceiling. He told me he’d call a meeting of—” “Why, you darned chump,” roared Oliver. “I’m not going to run for State senator or anything else. You must be crazy. You’ve got a lot of nerve, you have. What right have you to start a thing like this without consulting me? You’ll just make a monkey of me, that’s all you’ll do—and of yourself, too. I’ll head it off to-morrow. I’ll telephone—” “Won’t do you a darned bit of good,” cried Sammy exultingly. “They’ll nominate you, anyhow. Why, my Lord, they’ve got to nominate _somebody_, haven’t they? They do it every election year, don’t they? Just as a matter of form? But, great Scott, here’s the chance for them to _elect_ somebody in this county. You don’t suppose they’re going to miss a chance like this, do you? Popular young soldier, medal man, celebrated football player, renowned engineer, youthful philanthropist, successful business man, unsmirched character—why, you’re the only Republican in this county that would stand a ghost of a show, Ollie. And best of all—popular nephew running against Shylock uncle! Gee whiz! Normal Democratic majority of three thousand wiped out—in spite of prohibition—and—Senator Baxter, of Rumley, ladies and gentlemen!” Even Oliver October laughed. “By jingo, Sammy, you’re doing your level best to have me put my neck in the noose, aren’t you?” he exclaimed. “Noose nothing!” exploded Sammy. “I thought about all that. You can’t possibly be elevated to a position in the halls of State or Nation until next November, you chump—and you’ll be thirty in October, won’t you? Well, that settles that. Puts the kibosh on that gypsy dope. Well, so long! I’ve got to be on the jump. I just thought I’d run up and tell you, so’s you’d know what’s what. I’m going down to see Al Wilson at the _Despatch_ office. Put him wise and warn him not to let a word of it leak out in the paper till he gets the word. Night, Mr. Sage—so long, Jane.” “Wait a minute!” called out Oliver, springing to his feet as Sammy darted down the walk. “Nix!” shouted Sammy over his shoulder. The three of them watched him in silence as he leaped into his car and began his swift, reckless turn in the narrow street. “Sorry!” he yelled out to them. “Had to take off a little of the turf, but this street needs widening, anyhow.” “What are you going to do about it?” inquired the minister, the first to speak. Jane did not give Oliver a chance to reply. Her eyes were blazing with excitement and there was a thrill in her voice that caused Oliver to laugh outright. “Do about it?” she cried. “Why, he’s going to run against old Gooch and beat the life out of him!”