Nearly every one had left the steamer when Miss Landon came down the gangway, followed by four stewards carrying her father, who, being rich, was attended by the ship’s surgeon. Miss Landon was bewildered by the crowd of brokers, reporters, and friends assembled at the steamer. She had never dreamed that the Landons were of such importance. Her aunt took little note of anything, being obliged to pinch herself to see whether she still lived. The ship’s surgeon, appreciating the importance of his patient, refused to allow even the most intimate friends of the injured man to speak to him. He went with them to their hotel and remained until another physician could be called. The new doctor was worse, if anything, than the ship’s doctor. This was a severe blow to the solicitor, who knew better than to try to get to his client _via_ the daughter. On the following day Miss Landon persuaded the doctor to allow her father’s old business partner and neighbor from Gloucester to see the sick man. Landon’s mind was still wavy, but in the course of a half hour’s talk the visitor made it pretty clear to the injured man that if the Van Swells got control of the road, in which they were deeply interested, they would be likely to be squeezed out; if not, the road, under such incompetent management, would be sure to lose money. “It’s Kate’s money,” said the sufferer. “She railroads all the time, let her use her judgment,” and it was so agreed. The day before the date on which the election was to take place they moved on to Boston. When they were established in a comfortable hotel, their Gloucester friend asked to be allowed to introduce the gentleman who was being brought forward, without any effort upon his part, as the choice for President of the anti-Van Swell faction, to which the Landons rightfully belonged. Now when the army of reporters saw the stranger going up in tow of the Gloucester man, they knew that the pink-tea people were beaten, for Landon’s vote was sure to elect--it was the balance of power. “This is Mr. McGuire, Miss Landon,” said the Gloucester man. McGuire, who was utterly indifferent to most people and most things in this world, was visibly affected. Miss Landon, who had fainted but once, clutched at the back of her chair. McGuire, finding his voice and feet, stepped forward, saying, in far-away, tremulous tones, like a man talking in his sleep, “I think I have had the pleasure of meeting Miss Landon.” The Gloucester man managed to rally from his surprise and introduced “Auntie,” who until now had not seen the distinguished railroader. “Is it possible?” Miss Landon heard herself say right to the man’s face. At this moment a street piano under their windows broke loose with the then raging popular air:-- “Arrah, Patsy! git up f’om th’ fire, An’ guv th’ mon a sate; , Can’t ye see that it’s Misther McGuire, Come a courtin’ yer sisther Kate?” “Yes,” said McGuire, taking her hand again, “it is possible.”