Then John Thomas tried to get a few winks of unmolested repose, but it was election day, and the house was early astir.  Loud voices sounded through the hall.  Innumerable people, it seemed, mistook his room for their own.  Jack rose at last, thoroughly indignant and disposed to quarrel.  He had a blame good notion to vote for Brown after all, after the way he had been treated.

When he had hastily dressed himself, discussing his grievances in a loud voice, he endeavored to leave the room, but found the door securely locked.  Then his anger knew no bounds.  He lustily kicked on the lower panel of the door and fairly shrieked his indignation and rage.

The chambermaid, passing, remonstrated with him by beating on the other side of the door.  She was a pert young woman with a squeaky voice, and she thought she knew what was wrong with the occupant of 17.  She had heard kicks on doors before.

“Quiet down, you, mister, or you’ll get yourself put in the cooler—­ that’s the best place for noisy drunks.”

This, of course, annoyed the innocent man beyond measure, but she was gone far down the hall before he could think of the retort suitable.

When she finished her upstairs work and came downstairs to peel the potatoes, she mentioned casually to the bartender that whoever he had in number 17 was “smashin’ things up pretty lively!”

The bartender went up and liberated the indignant voter, who by this time had his mind made up to vote against both Brown and Hastings, and furthermore to renounce politics in all its aspects for evermore.

However, a good breakfast and the sincere apologies of the hotel people did much to restore his good humor.  But a certain haziness grew in his mind as to who was who, and at times the disquieting thought skidded through his murky brain that he might be in the enemy’s camp for all he knew.  Angus and Mrs. Angus had said, “Do what you think is right and vote for Hastings,” and that was plain and simple and easily understood.  But now things seemed to be all mixed up.

The committee were ill at ease about him.  The way he wagged his head and declared he knew what was what, you bet, was very disquieting, and the horrible fear haunted them that they were perchance cherishing a serpent in their bosom.

The Secretary had a proposal:  “Take him out to Milt Kennedy’s.  Milt said he could work him.  Take him out there!  Milt said all he had to do was to raise his eyes and John Thomas would vote right.”

The erstwhile Liberal again went on the road with John Thomas, to deliver him over to the authority of Milt Kennedy.  If Milt could get results by simply elevating his eyebrows, Milt was the man who was needed.

Arriving at Milt’s, he left the voter sitting in the buggy, while he went in search of the one who could control John’s erring judgment.

While sitting there alone, another wandering thought zig-zagged through John’s brain.  They were making a fool of him, some way!  Well, he’d let them see, b’gosh!