“That’s not so, Hal McCormack!” she declared, “and you know it. You’ve done precious little to get elected. Why, instead of sitting here at home to-night calmly reading Karl Marx’s silly book on ‘Kapital,’ you ought to be out with your coat off and your sleeves rolled up, hustling for votes, as I’ll warrant you Ben Barriscale is.” Hal smiled. He seldom took his Aunt Sarah’s scolding seriously. But to-night she seemed to be more in earnest than usual. “Why,” she went on, “Chick is worth a dozen of you as a vote-getter. Here he’s been running his legs off for you for days while you’ve been dawdling around the house. What is the outlook anyway, Chick?” “Perty poor, Mrs. Halpert,” was the reply. Chick always called her “Mrs.” She said she didn’t know why on earth he did so unless it was because he felt that even if she wasn’t married she ought to be, so that she would have some one to be continually bossing. “Well, where’s your list, Hal?” she asked. “Let’s look it over again. We’ll separate the sheep from the goats and put bells on them. Then we’ll know where they are.” She crossed over and seated herself in a chair by the table, and beckoned to the boys to join her there. They did so. And when Hal produced his list, already checked and rechecked, of the names of the enlisted men in his company, she went over it with them, name by name, and from the reports which they gave, and from her own knowledge and opinions, she drew her conclusions and made her division. “’Fore I forget it,” said Chick, “Co’poral Manning sent word to tell you that him an’ Charlie Moore is for you. He thought you might not be sure of ’em.” “I wasn’t sure of them,” replied Hal. “It was rather a delicate matter to approach them, and I didn’t do it.” “Of course you didn’t!” sputtered Miss Halpert. “And there are several dozen more whom your extraordinary delicacy and modesty have prevented you from interviewing. Oh, you’ve made a fine campaign--for self-effacement!” She turned abruptly to Chick. “Chick,” she asked, “who are the doubtful ones in this whole list? Just give me their names and I’ll take them down.” “What for, Aunt Sarah?” Hal scented trouble. “I’m going to see every mother’s son of ’em to-morrow morning, and find out what’s what.” “But, Aunt Sarah, you promised me----” She turned on him sharply. “My promise was on condition that you should do something for yourself. And as near as I can make out you haven’t done a blessed thing. Chick, give me those names.” Hal groaned in dismay. He knew, from long experience, the utter uselessness of making further protest. “Well,” replied Chick, “there’s Maury an’ Steinman an’ Jarvis an’ O’Donnell, an’--an’----” “How about Tom Hooper?” inquired Miss Halpert. “Him an’ Jim Stone’s ag’inst us,” answered Chick. “What for?” “No reason ’t I know of, ’cept they’re fixed.” “Well, they’re not fixed until after I’ve seen them.” “But,” protested Hal, “you don’t know those fellows, Aunt Sarah.”