They heard a voice in the hall and the sound of a girl’s laughter. Briggs stopped speaking and listened. A moment later Fanny Wallace ran in, followed by her aunt, her father and Guy Fullerton. “Here we are at last!” said Fanny. “Missed us?” she went on, and she gave her uncle a kiss on the chin. “Oh, we’ve had the loveliest dinner! Terrapin and mushrooms and venison and--you should have seen dad when he looked over the bill! Now, aren’t you sorry you didn’t come?” she asked, turning to Guy. “I was very sorry before you went,” Guy replied. “What did _you_ have, Uncle Doug?” “I didn’t have anything.” Fanny stood still. “What?” Helen interposed, as she was about to unpin her hat: “But I told Martha to have some dinner for you.” “I told her that I was going out, but I fell asleep,” Briggs explained. “I’ll see about something.” Helen Briggs removed her hat and pinned her veil on it. Briggs shook his head. “No. I couldn’t eat now,” he said, with a scowl of exhaustion. Helen looked alarmed. “Aren’t you well?” she asked. “Perfectly. Don’t worry about me. I’ll take a biscuit and a glass of wine if I need anything. And if I’m elected we’ll all go out and blow ourselves to a supper.” Fanny’s eyes shone. “At the Waldorf-Astoria? Good! We’ll have some lobster Newburg.” Jonathan Wallace was drawing off his thick gloves. “Well, everything looks cheerful for you, they say,” he remarked to Briggs. “I met Harris, that political friend of yours, and he told me you were going to have a big majority.” “Oh, Harris always was an optimist,” said Briggs. “And dad made him furious,” Fanny cried. “He told him that every time a friend of his went into politics he felt like saying, ‘There’s another good man gone wrong!’ and he said that if you got completely snowed under it would be the best thing that could happen to you.” Briggs smiled. “And what did Harris say to that?” “He didn’t say anything. He just looked. Well, I’m going down stairs to see if I can’t get something to eat for this gentleman. I’m going to make him eat something. Think of his going without any dinner while we were gorging! Want to come and help, Guy?” “Take too long.” Fanny looked injured. “Why, there isn’t anything for you to do here.” “Well, there will be soon,” Guy replied. “Then Uncle Doug can send for you--or Mr. Farley.” Fanny seized Guy by the shoulders and pushed him out of the room. “Won’t you, Mr. Farley?” she cried, from the hall. “All right,” Farley replied, smiling. “I think I’ll go up and take a nap,” said Wallace. “This New York pace is a little too much for me.”