“Come in, Pete.” Listening, he heard the front door open. Then it closed, and Gergue came slowly along the hall and into the room. Amos looked up and nodded. “Evening, Peter. Glad t’see you. Take a chair. Any chair.” Peter put his hat on the table and dragged a morris chair before the fire. He sat down, still without speaking, and extended his feet toward the fire in imitation of Amos. Amos’ hands were clasped across his middle, and Gergue clasped his hands there too. Thus they remained for a little time silent. But such a position put Gergue under too great a handicap. He had to get his fingers into his hair; and so presently he unclasped his hands and began to rummage through the tangle at the nape of his neck for his medulla, as though hunting for something. Apparently, he found it; for after a moment he said slowly: “Well, Amos, we’re licked.” Amos turned his head and studied Gergue. “Do tell!” he exclaimed at last. Gergue nodded. “Hollow ain’t got any more chance of being Mayor than--than young Wint Chase has.” This seemed to startle Amos. He opened his mouth to speak, hesitated, closed it again, then asked: “Young Wint! What makes you say that?” “We-ell--no more chance than I got, then,” Gergue amended. The Congressman seemed satisfied with the amendment. He wagged his head as though deploring the situation, then asked: “Why? What’s Jim done?” Gergue looked at Amos reproachfully. “We-ell, you know Jim.” “Always does the right thing, don’t he?” “They ain’t no votes in that.” The two considered this truism for a time in thoughtful silence. In this interval, Gergue produced and filled and lighted a pipe in a manner painfully like that of Amos. Every detail--pipe, plug, knife, priming--was the same. Amos watched him with interest, and when Gergue had finished with the rites, Amos asked: “How big a margin has Chase got?” Gergue opened his hands as though baring every secret. “Well,” he said, “Jim’ll get two votes. Yours and mine. He won’t vote for himself. Says it ain’t right. So I don’t know where we can count on anything else.” He hesitated, then: “You know, this Chase has got a holt on Hardiston.” “How?” “Every way. Four-five hundred men working for him, one way or another. The drys are all with him. The money is all with him. And the Democrats are all with him.” Amos pondered. “I hadn’t no notion Chase was such a popular man,” he said. Gergue shook his head. “He ain’t. They’d all like to see him licked, just to see his swelling go down some. But--a man can’t vote for Hollow.” Amos puffed hard. “You know, Peter, I’ve a mind to vote for Chase myself.” Gergue was startled; but after a minute he grinned. “Whatever you say goes for me, Amos.” “Chase is a good man, a big man, a public-spirited man. You know, Peter, if he was elected Mayor, things being as they is, he’d stand right in line for Congress next fall. I don’t know as I’d even run against him, Pete.”