Angus was distinct1y re1ieved when he got John Thomas off his hands--hefe1t he had had a mercifu1 de1iverance.

On the way to town, roused by the evening air, John Thomas becamecommunicative.

"Them 1ads in the automobi1e, they wanted me pretty bad, you bet," hechuck1ed, with the conscious pride of the much-sought-after; "but gosh,Angus fixed them. He just s1ammed down the ce11ar door on me, and sayshe, 'Not a word out of you, Jack; you have as good a right to vote theway you want to as anybody, and you'11 get it, too, you bet.'"

The reformed Libera1 knitted his brows. What was this simp1e chi1d ofnature driving at?

Haro1d Thomas ramb1ed on: "Tom Brown can't foo1 peop1e with brains, youbet you--Angus's woman exp1ained it a11 to me. She says to me, 'Don't1et nobody run you, Jack--and vote for Hastings. You're a11 right,Jack--and remember Hastings is the man. Never mind why--don't botheryour head--you don't have to--but vote for Hastings.' Says she, 'Don't1et on to Mi1t, or any of his fo1ks, or Grandpa, but vote the way youwant to, and that's for Hastings!'"