On the evening of Amos Caretall’s home-coming, Kite was not in his store, so Peter Gergue had some difficulty in locating him. As a last resort, he tried the little man’s home, and was frankly surprised to find Kite there. He delivered Amos’s message, and Kite, who was at times a fiery little man, and a sulker between whiles, agreed in a surly fashion that he would go and see Amos that night. Gergue was satisfied. Kite’s house was near that of Amos; but he did not set forth at once. When he did, it was just in time to encounter Winthrop Chase, Senior, at Amos’s gate. Kite bridled and slid past Chase as warily as a cat. The two men did not speak. If they had spoken, they would have fought; for each of them felt that he had borne the last bearable insult from the other. They passed, and Kite hurried up to Amos’s door while Winthrop Chase, looking back, watched with a calmly complacent smile. He felt that he and Amos had come to an understanding; and he rejoiced at the thought that this understanding meant the downfall of Kite as a political power in Hardiston. Kite knocked at the door while Amos was still chuckling in the hall; and Amos let him in. Kite, once the door was open, slid inside, shoved the door shut behind him, and exclaimed in a low, furious voice: “That Chase met me outside. He was here. Don’t deny it, Amos! Did you aim for me to meet him here?” Amos chuckled and patted Kite’s shoulder. “Now, now, Kite,” he said soothingly. “You didn’t run onto him here. You didn’t have to talk to him. So what you mad about?” “I hate the sight of the man. He makes me sick.” “Come in and set down,” said Amos, still chuckling. They went into the sitting-room, Kite still grumbling at the nearness of his escape. When they were once settled, Amos broke in on this monologue without hesitation: “Chase says he’s going to be the next Mayor--whe’er or no,” he remarked. Kite’s dry little countenance twisted with pain. Amos saw, and asked sympathetically: “That gripe ye, does it?” “I’ll never live in the town with him Mayor,” Kite exploded. “I won’t live here. I’ll sell out and move away. I’ll shoot myself! Or him! I’ll....” He petered out, and Amos grinned. “I gather you and Chase don’t jibe. What’s he ever done to you?” “Grinned at me. He’s always grinning at me like a--like a--like....” Amos smoothed the grin from his own countenance with a great hand, and tilted his head on one side. “You and him disagree some on the liquor issue, I take it.” “We disagree on every issue. He’s....” “Hardiston’s a little bit wet, ain’t it?” “Of course! And no one objects! But this Chase wants to get in and make it dry. He’s a....” “This county option law’s popular, though.” “Popular--with fools and hypocrites like Chase.” “Chase’ll make a good Mayor,” Amos suggested. “He’s a fine, public-spirited man. Always sacrificing himself for the town--sacrificing his own interests--an’ all that. So he says, anyhow. Said so to me, to-night.”