Andrew the Glad

And the day of the election arrived next morning and brought cold clouds

shot through with occasional gleams of pale sunshine, only to be followed

by light but threatening flurries of snow.

All through the Sunday night David had sat over in the editorial rooms of

the _Journal_ beside Andrew Sevier, talking, writing and sometimes silent

with unexpressed sympathy, for as the last sheets of his editorial work

slipped through his fingers Andrew grew white and austere. Once for a

half-hour they talked about his business affairs and he turned over a

bundle of papers to David and discussed the investment of the money that

had come from his heavy royalties for the play now running, and the

thousands paid in advance for the new drama.

As David ran carefully through them to see that they were in order for

him to handle, Andrew turned to his desk and wrote rapidly for some

minutes, then sealed a letter and laid it aside. After he had read the

last batch of proof from the composing-room he turned to David and

with a quiet look handed him the letter which was directed to Caroline

Darrah.

"If she ever finds out give her this letter, please. It will make her

understand why I go, I hope. I can't talk to you about it but I want

to ask you, man to man, to look after her. Dave, I leave her to your

care--and Phoebe's." And his rich voice was composed into an utter

sadness.

"The work here and the night are both over, let's go down to

headquarters," he added, and like two boys, with hands tight gripped,

they passed out into the winter street.

Down at the _Gray Picket_ they found some of David's ardent supporters

still fresh and enthusiastic though they had been making a night of it.

Soon waves of excitement were rising and falling all over the city and

the streets were thronged with men from out through the county.

At an early hour heavy wagons moved with the measured tread of blind

tigers and deposited blind tiger kittens, done up in innocent and

deceptive looking crates, at numbers of discreet alley covers near

the polls. At the machine headquarters rotund and blooming gentlemen

grouped and dissolved and grouped again, during which process wads of

greenbacks unrolled and flashed with insolent carelessness. The situation

was and had been desperate and this last stand must be brought through

for the whisky interest, come high as it would.

And so through the morning, delegations kept dropping in to David's

headquarters to keep up the spirits of the candidate and incidentally to

have their own raised. There were ugly rumors coming from the polls. The

police were machine instruments and the back door of every saloon in the

city was wide open, while a repeating vote was plainly indicated by

crowds of floaters who drifted from ward to ward. The faces of the bosses

were discreetly radiant.