“Boys,” he said, “I told you all, a week or so ago, I’d like you to vote for Hopkins for Representative, as I believed his election would result in more work for the mill and better wages for the employees.  But I’ve been watching matters pretty closely, and I’ve changed my mind.  Forbes is a coming man, and he’ll do more for us all than Hopkins could.  So every man who is entitled to vote will please me best by voting for Kenneth Forbes.”

There was a cheer at this, and when it subsided, the manager continued: 

“Of course none of the new men, who were not properly registered, have a right to vote at this election, and I command them to keep away from the polls.  Anyone who attempts to vote illegally will be promptly arrested.”

This caused more cheering, for the workmen had suspected that the new hands would be voted illegally, and they were relieved to find that it was a “square deal all ’round,” as one of them remarked with satisfaction.

Meantime, Uncle John was having a “barrel of fun” with Mr. Hopkins.

The little millionaire, although a man of simple and unobtrusive ways, was a shrewd judge of human nature.  Moreover he had acquired a fund of experience in dealing with all sorts of people, and was delighted to meet Mr. Hopkins under the present circumstances.

So he drove over to Elmwood and was fortunate to find Mr. Hopkins in his “office” at home where he was busily engaged instructing his “workers” in their duties at the polls.

At sight of Mr. Merrick, whom he knew by this time to be a friend of Kenneth Forbes, staying at Elmhurst, the politician scented some pending difficulty, or at least an argument, and was sufficiently interested to dismiss his men without delay.

“Ah, this is Mr. Merrick, I believe,” began Mr. Hopkins, suavely.  “What can I do for you, sir?”

“Considerable, if you’re disposed,” answered the other.  “For one thing I’d like to hire Eliza Parsons away from you.”

“Eliza Parsons!” gasped the Representative.

“Yes, your spy.  Election’s about over and you won’t need her any longer, will you?”

“Sir, do you mean to insult me?” asked the Honorable Erastus, indignantly.

“By no means.  I thought you were through with the girl,” said Uncle John with a chuckle.

Mr. Hopkins was distinctly relieved.  With a full recollection of his wicked schemes in his mind, he had feared some more important attack than this; so he assumed a virtuous look, and replied: 

“Sir, you wrong me.  Eliza Parsons was no spy of mine.  I was merely trying to encourage her to a higher spiritual life.  She is rather flighty and irresponsible, sir, and I was sorry for the poor girl.  That is all.  If she has been telling tales, they are untrue.  I have found her, I regret to say, inclined at times to be—­ah—­inventive.”

“Perhaps that’s so,” remarked Uncle John, carelessly.  “You’re said to be a good man, Mr. Hopkins; a leetle too honest and straightforward for a politician; but that’s an excusable fault.”