"Well, I wanted to attend a Republican convention once more before I died. Your ma would have it I wasn't strong enough; but I knew better; you and I knew better; didn't we, Jenny?" She made no answer except to pat his thin, ribbed brown hand with her soft, white, slim one; but there was a world of sympathy in the gesture and her silent smile. "I wonder what your ma said when she came down-stairs and found the letter, and us gone," he cackled with the garrulous glee of a child recounting successful mischief; "made me think of the times when you was little and I stole you away for the circus. Once, your pa thought you was lost--'member? And once, you had on your school dress and you'd tore it--she did scold you that time. But we had fun when they used to let me have money, didn't we, Jenny?" "Well, now I earn money, we have good times, too, grandpa," said Jenny, smiling the same tender, comprehending smile. "We do that; I don't know what I would do 'cept for you, lambie, and this is--this is a grand time, Jenny, you look and listen; it's a great thing to see a nation making its principles and its president--and such a president!" He half turned his head as he spoke, with a mounting enthusiasm, thus bringing his flushing face and eager eyes--no longer dim--into the focus of his next neighbor's bright gray eyes. The neighbor was a young man, not very young, but hardly to be called elderly, of an alert bearing and kindly smile. "I think him a pretty fair man myself," said the other with a jocose understatement; "I come from his town." What was there in such a simple statement to bring a distinctly anxious look into the young girl's soft eyes? There it was; one could not mistake it. "Well!" said the old man: there was a flattering deference in his voice. "Well, well. And--and maybe you've seen him lately?" The quavering tones sharpened with a keener feeling; it was almost as if the man were inquiring for some one on whom he had a great stake of affection. "How did he look? Was he better, stronger?" "Oh, he looked elegant," said the Ohio man, easily, but with a disconcerted side glance at the girl whose eyes were imploring him. "I've been a Blaine man ever since he was run the time Bob Ingersoll nominated him," said the old man, who sighed as if relieved. "I was at that convention and heard the speech--" "Ah, that was a speech to hear," said a man behind, and two or three men edged their heads nearer. The old Republican straightened his bent shoulders, his winter-stung features softened and warmed at the manifestation of interest, his voice sank to the confidential undertone of the narrator.