The pain had eased on the journey, and now the thought of having the offending tooth pulled was weighing heavily upon Patsy’s mind.  The door of Dr. Squiers’s office stood ajar, and she hesitated whether to enter or not.

The dentist’s reception room was divided from his operating room by a thin wooden partition, and as Patsy was deciding whether to employ Dr. Squiers’s services or not she heard high words coming from behind the partition, and the voice was that of the Honorable Erastus Hopkins.

Softly she slid into the outer room and sank into a chair.

“But you’re the clerk of the election, Squiers; you can’t deny that,” Hopkins was saying in a blustering, imperious voice.

“That’s true enough,” answered the dentist, more calmly.

“Then you’ve got the registration books in your possession.”

“I admit that,” was the reply.  “But you’re asking me to incriminate myself, ’Rast.  If the thing was discovered it would mean prison for both of us.”

“Fiddlesticks!” cried the irascible Hopkins.  “These things are done every day, and no one’s the wiser for it.  It’s merely a part of the political game.”

“I’m afraid, ’Rast,” said Dr. Squiers.  “Honest Injun, I’m afraid.”

“What are you ’fraid of?  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.”