“‘I. & R.,’” repeated the Professor, staring hard at the sign. “I find it impossible to imagine what those letters stand for. If we were in Europe, I should instantly surmise the meaning, but we are in the United States.” “Yes; we’re in the United States,” replied Kearns, “and here we see those letters only around election time--‘_I_’ for Independent and ‘_R_’ for Republican. But that wouldn’t explain matters here; for what’s the meaning of the ‘_and_’ between the two letters? Well, I don’t suppose we’ll find out by standing here in the sun staring at that big board. Besides, I don’t care a rap whether this Waring is a Republican or a confounded Independent. Let’s have another little nip from the flask to recruit our strength and move on.” “I seldom indulge,” began the Professor, “but----” “Don’t be bashful, Professor,” hastily interposed Kearns; “help yourself.” After each had thus refreshed himself, they renewed their journey. “From your scornful reference to Independents just now,” remarked Dean, “you don’t seem to hold them in very high estimation.” “Ah, those Independents!” exclaimed Kearns, with fine scorn. “It’s my experience that an Independent is usually a fellow with a keen eye to _his_ independent interest. His independence consists of balancing his vote between the two parties, with a view to casting it for the side offering him the higher inducement. A pest on your Independents, I say! But, hello! what’s the matter with your hat?” The sun was streaming fiercely down and the Professor, to shield his face, gave the brim of his white Fedora a sharp pull over his eyes. But the brim parted from the crown and settled comically around his nose. An examination of the hat showed the goods to be in a condition which Kearns described as “absolutely rotten”--almost brittle as tinder. “A nice hat that!” commented Kearns. “Permit me to ask you the classic question: Where did you get that hat?” “At Knox,” ruefully answered the Professor. “But,” he added, critically surveying his companion, “it doesn’t seem to me that you have much to boast about as a Beau Brummell.” It was Kearns’ turn to examine his clothes. Glancing down at the blue serge suit he wore, he saw that a large section of cloth had apparently rotted away from the bottom of one of the trouser legs, and the lining of the coat had broken away from the material in several places. Like the Professor’s hat, the whole material seemed tinder-like and brittle. To add to his discomfiture, the leather of his left shoe began to part company with the sole. Ruefully, Kearns noted this involuntary disrobement. He had always been somewhat particular in dress. “Professor,” he exclaimed humorously, “if we want to keep our reputation for decency it’s high time we reached home.” “Very high time,” assented Dean solemnly. “If we could only get a hack, or a conveyance of any kind,” lamented Kearns.