Not long after this domestic readjustment Jim was smoking, his wife reading and his mother-in-law sewing in the dining room after supper when the doorbell rang from the vestibule below. Georgia pressed the opener and admitted Ed Miles, the boss of the ward, "the big fellow." She wasn't a bit glad to see him. She thought that to keep Jim away from politics and politicians was the only way to keep him away from drinking. The big fellow made a formal call. He sat on the edge of his chair, his gray derby hat pushed under it, and constantly addressed Georgia as ma'am. Although she mistrusted him every moment of his visit, she felt the power of him, the brusque charm of his vitality, the humor of his laugh. When he rose to go he said good-bye politely to the women and then to Jim, who could tell by the pressure of the big fellow's hand that he wanted a word alone with him. "I'll see you to the door, Ed," said Jim, and they walked out together. Georgia noticed thankfully that her husband did not take his hat and that he was wearing slippers. "I want you to do me a little favor, Jim. You know we have our ward club election the first Monday of the new year. "Yes." "Come around." "I ain't a member of the club any more." "I'll fix that--and your back dues, too." "I promised my wife to keep out of politics." "I don't blame her either. You were going some for a married man. But the fact is, they're trying under cover to take the organization away from us." "I heard there was a little battle on." "It's more than that. It goes deep. They've got backing. Now if my friends throw me down--" "You know damn well I wouldn't throw you down, Ed." "If you don't come to the front when I need you, it's the same thing. And I need you now. This is confidential, y'understand?" "Sure." "Because I wouldn't let it get out I was worried." The two men were standing side by side on the front stoop in a stream of arc light from the street lamp. "I want your vote," said Miles, "for old sake's sake." "I dassen't go into politics regular, Ed." "I don't ask you to." "But I might slip up to the ward meeting one night, just doing my duty as a citizen." "You're a good fellow, Jim." There was a trace of huskiness in the big fellow's bass voice and Jim felt himself again moved by his old loyalty to his leader. The two shook hands warmly, fervently, with the facile emotions of politicians. "One thing about me--I never quit on my friends when they need me." There was a perceptible huskiness in Jim's voice also. "I know it damn well," said the big fellow, throwing his arm about the other's shoulder, "because you're a thoroughbred." He thrust his hand into his side pocket and brought forth several dozen large glazed white cards bearing the legend, "For President Fortieth Ward Club, Carl Schroeder," with an oval half-tone of the fat-faced candidate.