“Now then, the election can go to blazes,” said Kenneth, cheerfully, to Mr. Watson.  “The sight of some friendly faces will be a great relief.”

The old lawyer sighed.  His attempt to “wake up” Kenneth had resulted in failure, mainly because the boy had become discouraged so early in the game.  Kenneth felt keenly the humiliating experiences he had passed through, and had sunk back into his old moody reserve.

But here was a welcome diversion.  The visitors, whoever they might prove to be, would afford relief to the situation and brighten the dullness of life at the big house.  So both Kenneth and Mr. Watson were with the drag at the station when the noon train drew in.

And there were Patsy Doyle, Beth DeGraf, and Louise Merrick, a bevy of dainty and sprightly girls, alighting eagerly from the coaches, with Uncle John handing out the grips and packages and giving the checks for the baggage, with business-like celerity, to Thomas the groom.

“We’ve come for a visit, Ken!” cried Palsy, laughing at his eager delight.  “Are you glad to see us, boy?  And do you suppose old Martha has our rooms aired?”

“And it’s a long visit, too,” added Uncle John, “as you’ll believe when you see the pile of baggage.  You’d think these minxes were prepared for a tour of the world.  Each one of ’em brought a carload of clothes.”

But they couldn’t phase Kenneth in that way.  His sensitive face had not beamed with so much animation for months.

The guests were helped into the tall drag and merrily they drove the five miles to Elmhurst, not a word of politics being spoken on the way.

The girls had not been to the house since Aunt Jane’s death, two years ago, and after a hasty luncheon they began an inspection of every room, as well as the garden, grounds and stables.  The horses, cows, pig and chickens were alike inspected, the roses and dahlias visited and admired, and after all this they returned to their rooms with old Martha, the housekeeper, and proceeded to unpack their trunks and get settled.  Kenneth had been their guide and companion in these various explorations, but when the girls went to their rooms he wandered into the library where Uncle John and Mr. Watson had been having a quiet talk over their pipes of tobacco.  They welcomed the young man, but adroitly turned the topic of conversation, and again the subject of was rejoined.

It was a merry dinner party that graced the table during dinner that evening, and the boy forgot his troubles and was as jolly and sociable as he had ever been in his life.

But when they were all assembled in the long living room where they grouped themselves around the fireplace, a sudden change took place in the demeanor of the young ladies.  Patsy, the delegated leader, looked gravely at the boy and asked: 

“How goes the campaign, Ken?”

“Wh—­what campaign?” he stammered, to gain time.