Shelby sat under it all like a graven image, careless of the raking fire of eyes from every point, sang "America" with unction at the close, and advancing with the benediction to the pulpit stair, congratulated the bewildered clergyman on his "effort," and before he could conceive, much less deliver, a coherent reply, slipped down a side aisle and greeted Ruth. "Vigorous, but intemperate," said he, "and typically ministerial. The right road and the wrong road in politics don't abound in sign-posts, and pretty frequently both carry grist to the same mill." The riddle of his character piqued Ruth at that moment as it never had, and before they separated he obtained permission to call upon her after tea--a privilege which he interpreted as license to present himself betimes and stay to an unconscionable hour. Yet he talked fluently and well, and went out at length into the night tingling with the consciousness of having touched fingers with the higher life of his cherished aspirations. By the token of Ruth's interest, moreover, he took hope that he had not been found wanting where he was most ambitious to excel. It was a thing to lay to heart, an epochal page in his history which sleep alone could fitly round. Nevertheless, a disturbing impression of something essential left undone haunted the borderland of dreams to remain formless till morning, when his pocket handkerchief jerked a note odorous of patchouli to his bedroom floor. It was annoying. Of course Mrs. Hilliard had a certain claim, and had he been less occupied on his return from stumping the state with the governor he would have gone to her. By rights he should have made the effort to see her after receiving this message--yesterday, in fact; yesterday the golden. He would have gone, too, if--frankly, if the stature of the man he had become had less exacting ideals of womanly perfection. To the grown man of broadened horizon Mrs. Hilliard had come indubitably to seem a bore. Still, she had her claim. "I'll drop in after election," he decided, and laid his hand to the day's work. It proved a long, hard pull, made up of details petty enough in themselves, but considerable in their relation to the whole scheme of his defence. However, he reached its end cheery in the belief that the sun of Tuesday would light no Waterloo. "I'll win," he said to Bowers. "By no walkover, I admit; but I'll win." "M-yes; I guess, but by the narrowest margin the Demijohn ever gave. The slightest flurry might snow us under." "I'd stake my head on it." "Some who have betted less than that have hedged." "Who?" exclaimed the candidate, quickly. "Tuscarora House sports--I won't mention names--but poker friends of yours." "Sandy lot, they are," broke out Shelby, contemptuously. "I hope you counteracted the effect." "I instructed some of our people to cover everything they would put up," Bowers answered dryly. "You know I don't bet myself." Shelby guffawed and clapped him on the shoulder.