Knowlton blushed. Perhaps his heart swelled for a second at the mere thought, for, like all young lawyers, he had his ambitions, with the dome of the Capitol at Washington in the perspective of his dreams. But the Singed Cat was leaning over the judge's desk again and his little eyes, out of his thin serious face, swept the circle of chairs before him. His gavel fell. "The convention--will be--in order," he said in his penetrating voice. And then he paused and looked solemnly about. "The chair--desires to remind--the convention--" he continued, and the delegates looked up in alarm, "that the administration--at Washington--has redeemed--its promise--of prosperity--to the farmer--by sending--the former--and latter rain--upon the earth--in due season, which shows--what the party--can do--in the way--of keeping promises--when it gets--its hand in." The convention laughed. Men were one with all nature in being glad that morning. Then the chairman continued gravely as before: "Proceeding upon--the regular order--another ballot--for nomination--of a representative--in Congress--will be taken. Gentlemen--will prepare--their ballots, and the secretary--will call--the roll." And Hale, for the twelve hundred and sixty-first time, began his monotonous repetition. "DeWitt?" "Sprague, eighteen." The chairmen long ago had ceased to poll their delegations or to make the formal announcements they had found so pleasant when they first began. They had long been answering the roll-call in a fixed perfunctory manner, as a bailiff opens court by a formula that has grown meaningless, and will know no change as long as institutions last. "Logan?" "Twenty-four for Barrett." "Mason?" "Garwood, eighteen." Some of the delegates had strolled to the open windows and stood leaning idly on the sills, looking out on the wonderful morning. "Moultrie?" "Fifteen, Sprague." "Piatt?" "Sprague, fifteen." "Polk?" Pusey arose. "Mr. Chairman," he said in his weak voice. Delegates near him looked up, Randolph crouched like a lynx, then rose on bent knees, with an alert inquiry in his eyes. "On behalf of the delegation from Polk County," Pusey continued, "I cast the solid forty-five votes for Jerome B. Garwood." Hale, leaning listlessly on an elbow, his head in his hand, gazing away like an abstracted schoolboy through the open windows as if the woods and fields beckoned him from irksome routine tasks, had been calling the roll from memory, and keeping no tally, for he knew the formula perfectly by this time. But he looked up, startled. Rankin tilted back in his chair, let it come down suddenly, its legs striking the floor with a bang; his jaw fell. Knowlton sprang to his feet, his face written all over with surprise, and Randolph, his eyes ablaze, quickly straightening his legs and raising himself on his toes broke the startled stillness by crying excitedly: "Mr. Chairman!"