“Can’t say, Mr. Hopkins, I’m sure.  Business is pretty lively these days, and it keeps me hustling.  I’ve no time for politics.”

“But we’ve got to wake up, Jim, we Democrats, or they’ll give us a run for our money.”

“Oh, this is a Republican district, sir.  We can’t hope to win it often, and especially in a case like this.”

“Why not?”

“Looks to me as if you’d bungled things, Hopkins.  But I’m not interested in this campaign.  Excuse me; if there’s nothing you want, I’ve got a prescription to fill.”

Mr. Hopkins walked out moodily.  It was very evident that Latham had changed front.  But they had never been very staunch friends; and he could find a way to even scores with the little druggist later.

Thompson was behind his desk at the general store when Hopkins walked in.

“Look here,” said the Honorable Representative, angrily, “what’s been going on in Elmwood?  What’s all this plugging for Forbes mean?”

Thompson gave him a sour look over the top of his desk.

“Addressin’ them remarks to me, ’Rast?”

“Yes—­to you!  You’ve been loafing on your job, old man, and it won’t do—­it won’t do at all.  You should have put a stop to these things.  What right have these girls to interfere in a game like this?”

“Oh, shut up, ’Rast.”

“Thompson!  By crickey, I won’t stand this from you.  Goin’ back on me, eh?”

“I’m a Republication, ’Rast.”

“So you are,” said Mr. Hopkins slowly, his temper at white heat “And that mortgage is two months overdue.”

“Go over to the bank and get your money, then.  It’s waiting for you, Hopkins—­interest and all.  Go and get it and let me alone.  I’m busy.”

Perhaps the politician had never been so surprised in his life.  Anger gave way to sudden fear, and he scrutinized the averted countenance of Thompson carefully.

“Where’d you raise the money, Thompson?”

“None of your business.  I raised it.”

“Forbes, eh?  Forbes has bought you up, I see.  Grateful fellow, ain’t you—­when I loaned you money to keep you from bankruptcy!”

“You did, Hopkins.  You made me your slave, and threatened me every minute, unless I did all your dirty work.  Grateful?  You’ve led me a dog’s life.  But I’m through with you now—­for good and all.”

Hopkins turned and walked out without another word.  In the dentist’s office Dr. Squiers was sharpening and polishing his instruments.

“Hello, Archie.”

“Hello, ’Rast.  ’Bout time you was getting back, old man.  We’re having a big fight on our hands, I can tell you.”

“Tell me more,” said Mr. Hopkins, taking a chair with a sigh of relief at finding one faithful friend.  “What’s up, Archie?”

“An invasion of girls, mostly.  They took us by surprise, the other day, and started a campaign worthy of old political war-horses.  There’s some shrewd politician behind them, I know, or they wouldn’t have nailed us up in our coffins with such business-like celerity.”