Aunt Jane's Nieces at Work
I've got the other clerks all fixed, and
they'll stand by us. All you need do is to add these sixty-six names to
the registration list, and then we'll vote 'em without opposition and
win out."
Patsy gave a gasp, which she tried to stifle. The toothache was all
forgotten.
"Where are these men?" inquired Dr. Squiers, thoughtfully.
"They're over at the mill. Marshall got 'em from all over the country,
and they'll be set to work today, so everything will seem reg'lar."
"Where do they sleep and eat?" inquired the doctor.
"Forty sleep in Hayes's barn, and the other twenty-six in the stock loft
over the planing mill. Marshall's got a commissary department and feeds
'em regular rations, like so many soldiers. Of course I'm paying for all
this expense," acknowledged Mr. Hopkins, somewhat regretfully.
"And do you suppose these sixty-six votes will turn the scale?" asked
Dr. Squiers.
"They're sure to. We finished the last canvass yesterday, and according
to our figures Forbes has about eighteen votes the best of us. That's
getting it down pretty close, but we may as well make up our minds we're
beaten if we don't vote the men over at the mill. Marshall could have
got me a hundred if necessary, but sixty-six is more than enough. Say
Forbes has twice eighteen for his plurality, instead of eighteen; these
sixty-six for me would wipe that out and let us win in a walk."
When Hopkins ceased there was a brief silence. Perhaps Dr. Squiers was
thinking.
"I simply _must_ have those votes, Doc," resumed the Representative.
"It's the only way I can win."
"You've made a bungle of the whole campaign," said Squiers, bitterly.
"That's a lie. I've done a lot of clever work. But these infernal city
girls came down here and stirred up all the trouble."
"You made a mistake pushing that sign issue. The girls beat you on
that."
"If it hadn't been signs it might have been something worse. But I ain't
beaten yet, Doc. Squiers. This deal is going to win. It's a trick the
boarding-school misses won't understand until after they've cut their
eye-teeth in politics.
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There was once an honest journeyman tailor, by name Labakan, who learned his trade with an excellent master in Alexandria. It could not be said that Labakan was unhandy with the needle; on the contrary, he could make excellent work: moreover, one would have done him injustice to have called him lazy. Nevertheless, his companions knew not what to make of him, for he would often sew for hours together so rapidly that the needle would glow in his hand, and the thread smoke, and that none could equal him.
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