and spat carelessly, so close to Winthrop Chase, Senior’s polished shoes that the great man moved uneasily to one side.
“I suppose he is coming to take a hand in the mayoralty campaign,” said Chase urbanely. He could afford to be urbane.
“He didn’t say,” Gergue declared.
“I’m sorry we’re on opposite sides of the fence in this squabble. Tell him he and I must work together hereafter.”
“You tell him.”
Chase laughed. “I believe he will see it--without being told,” he said loudly, and the three men at his back smiled. “He will, no doubt, find some change in Hardiston affairs.”
“He will if there is any.”
“Perhaps even in the district. Though of course he does not have to seek reëlection this fall.”
“No.”
“Still--”
Gergue interrupted maliciously: “By th’ way, how’s Wint?”
The question had a curious effect upon Chase. It surprised him, it seemed to embarrass him, and it certainly angered him. He opened his mouth to speak. “He--”
But before he could go on, Gergue interposed: “I hear Columbus would’ve gone dry in spite of itself, if they hadn’t sent him home from State when they did.” And he departed with the honors of war, leaving Chase to sputter angrily into the sympathetic ears of his companions. When he and Hollow were half a block away, Gergue permitted himself to smile. Then he frowned and looked at Hollow. “Why don’t you talk up to him, Jim?” he asked disgustedly.
“I--always try to do what is right, Peter. I’d like to, I really would.”
“Would you, now?” Gergue echoed mockingly.
“Yes, I really would,” insisted James T. Hollow.
“Well, all right then,” said Gergue affably. “Le’s go along.”

They went along, down shaded lower Main Street, and took at length the left-hand turn that led toward the station. Gergue walked in silence, and Hollow, after a few futile efforts at conversation, gave it up and pattered at the taller man’s side without speaking. Gergue seemed to be thinking, thinking hard.

A branch line connects Hardiston with the main line of the B. & O. to Washington. Two trains a day traverse this branch in each direction. One of these trains is called the Mail; the other the Accommodation; but the source of these titles is not apparent, for both trains carry mail, and both are most accommodating. Perhaps the Accommodation is more so than the Mail, for at times it has a freight car attached between tender and baggage car, and this is an indignity which the Mail never suffers.

The station at Hardiston is a three-room structure of imitation hollow tiles. That is to say, it is built of wood sheathed with tin which is stamped in the likeness of tiles. These tin walls have an uncanny faculty for 

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