“Well, God bless her loyal little soul!” exclaimed the Honorable David, and the grave eyes were suspiciously bright.  “I hadn’t told her a word of what I was trying to do; but, Lord love you, Evan, she knew:  you trust a good woman for knowing, every time, son.  And now one more thing:  Have you come to know Honoria any better in these last few days?”

“Yes; much better, within the last few hours, dad.”

“That’s good; that does my old heart a heap of good, son!  Now then, you go straight off to bed and sleep up some.  You’ve had a mighty hard day for a sick man.  To-morrow morning we’ll drive out to Wartrace and get ready to touch off the fireworks when the returns trickle in on Tuesday.  I tell you, boy, Tuesday’s election is going to be a regular old-fashioned, heave-’em-up and keep-’em-a-going land-slide!  Good-night, and good dreams—­if that cracked head doesn’t go and roil ’em all up for you.”

XXXI

A LA BONNE HEURE

By some law of contraries, whose workings not even the politically profound can fathom, the election proved the truth of the adage that all signs fail in a dry time by recording itself as one of the quietest and most orderly ever known in the Sage-Brush State.  A few editors there were, like Blenkinsop, of The Plainsman, who maintained stoutly that it sounded the death-knell of the machine, but there was no gainsaying the result.  The “Paramounters” ticket, with or without the help of the machine, was elected by sweeping majorities everywhere; and Gantry, roaming the corridors and lounging-rooms of the Railway Club and reading the bulletins as they were posted, shook his head despairingly over each fresh announcement.

Late in the evening, finding that the senator’s party had left the Inter-Mountain the day before to drive to Wartrace, the traffic manager called up the Quaretaro Mesa country-house and poured the news of the debacle into Evan Blount’s ear.

“We’ve gone to the everlasting bow-wows, and Mr. McVickar has disappeared, and the end of the world has come,” was the way he phrased it for the listening ear; but the word which came back must have been peculiarly heartening, since from that time on to an hour well past midnight Gantry figured hilariously as the self-constituted host of any and all who would be entertained.

At Wartrace Hall there was also rejoicing, albeit of a quieter sort.  Five people sat around the cheerful blaze in the library, and when Crowell, whose telegraph instrument was in the adjoining den, had brought the final report from the outlying wards of the capital, he was told to close his key and go to bed.

After the young man had withdrawn, the Honorable David rose to stand with his back to the fire.

“Well, Evan, boy, are all the tangles straightened out for you for keeps, now?” he asked jovially.

“Just about all of them, dad,” laughed the younger man.  He had been spending a very happy evening, due less to the triumphant story which had been pouring in over the wires than to the fact that Patricia had been occupying the other half of the small sofa which he had dragged out to face the fire.