“It looks,” said Kenneth, quietly, “like a landslide for Hopkins, and I wonder how our Committee was so badly informed.”

“You see,” said Uncle John, “voters won’t usually tell the truth about how they’ve decided to vote.  Lots of them tell both sides they’re going to vote their way.  And people change their minds at the last minute, too.  You can’t do much more than average the thing by means of a canvass.”

By nine o’clock, complete returns from the part of Jefferson County included in the Eighth District showed a net gain of one hundred and eight for Hopkins—­a lead that it seemed impossible to overcome.  Washington County was not so bad.  Incomplete returns indicated a slight gain for Hopkins, but not more than a dozen votes altogether.

“Everything now depends upon Dupree and Fairview,” announced Kenneth, “but I can’t get any connection with them yet.  We won in Elmwood, anyhow, and Hopkins isn’t ahead more than a hundred and sixty as the thing stands now.  Cheer up, girls.  A defeat won’t hurt us much, for we’ve all made a good fight.  Better get to bed and sleep, for you’re tired out.  We’ll know all about everything in the morning.”

But they would not move.  Disappointment unnerved them more than victory would have done.  They resolved to wait until the last returns were in.

“Telephone, sir,” said Tom Gates.

Kenneth picked up the receiver.

“Here’s Dupree,” he said.  “Our majority over Hopkins is two hundred and eleven.  Let’s see, that’s a gain of seventy-four votes, my dears.”

“Hooray!” cried Patsy, delightedly.  “I don’t care a rap now, what happens.  Old Hopkins won’t have much to crow over if—­”

“Wait a minute,” said Kenneth.  “Here’s Fairview, at last!”

They held their breaths and watched his face.  Kenneth flushed red as he held the receiver to his ear, and then grew white.  He turned around to the expectant group and Beth knew from the sparkle in his eyes what had happened.

“Fairview’s six precincts give us six hundred and forty-one majority,” announced the boy, in an awed tone.  “That’s a gain of nearly four hundred!”

They gazed at him in silent wonder.  Then Uncle John rose slowly and took the boy’s hand.

“That means we’ve won—­and won in a walk,” said the little man.  “Kenneth, we congratulate you.”

Patsy’s face was buried in her handkerchief, and Beth’s great eyes were bright with unshed tears.  But Louise laughed her soft, musical laugh and remarked: 

“Why, I knew all the time we would win.  We had the better candidate, you see.”

“And the best campaign managers,” added Uncle John, with a proud smile.

“That may be true,” admitted Beth.  “But the thing that really won the fight was Patsy’s sore tooth.”

CHAPTER XXII

THE AWAKENING

James and Mr. Burke met the great specialist in brain diseases at the noon train on Wednesday and drove him to Elmhurst.