"Mother will be so glad," says Esther. She pities the man. She would not have been so cruel. She would have used gentler means, as she had been doing for twenty-eight hours! And Davy would have taken no medicine.

The room is at eighty degrees. The spray goes incessantly. The medicine is taken every half hour.

At three o'clock the emetic acts, giving immediate relief.

"I have heard my mother say," says Esther, "that a child is eased by a change of flannels. He is better now. I think I will put on a clean undershirt."

The woman takes the sick child in her lap and sits near the stove. The difficulties of the night return.

Why should the man's eyes be riveted on that captive's form! Ah! What a pitiful look is that on golden-head's face! The respiration is once more impeded. The little ribs start into sight. The little bellows of the body sucks with all its force. The breath comes at last. There is no complaint. There is the mute grandeur of Socrates.

"It is in us all!" the man cries.

"What is it in us all, David?" asks the woman.

"Cover him quickly, Esther, my dear," the man gasps, and buries his face in the pillow. "G.o.d of mercy, wipe that picture out of my memory!" he prays.

CHAPTER VII

THE PRIMARIES

The sun of Friday morning shines brightly. The sparrows chirp, the wagons rattle, the boys cry the papers, and the household smiles.

The peddling huckster's son is not surprised. He knew Dr. Floddin would cure Davy.

The cook buys heavily. They'll eat now. "Mind what I'll fix for that darlint to-day!" she threatens.

The housekeeper has taken Esther's place at Davy's couch.

"You have undoubtedly saved the life of your boy by making him take the emetic. He will love you just as much. I know--Mrs. Lockwin was telling me how much it disturbed you. Don't lose your empire over him, and he will be all right in a week. He must not have a relapse--that might kill him."

"Doctor, I am risen out of h.e.l.l, the third day. I cannot tell you what I have felt, especially since midnight. But I can tell you now what I want. I desire that you shall take my place on this case. My personal affairs are extremely pressing. What yesterday was impossible is now easy. In fact, it seems to me that only impossibilities are probable.

Remember that money is of no account. Throw aside your other practice.

See that the women keep my boy from catching that cold again and I will pay you any sum you may name."

In Lockwin's school money will purchase all things. Money will now keep Davy from a relapse. Money will carry the primaries. Money will win the election.

After all, Lockwin is inclined to smile at the terrors of the evening before. "I was in need of sleep," he says.

He has not slept since. Why is he so brave now? But brave he is. He carries an air of happiness all about him. He has left his Davy talking in his own voice, breathing with perfect freedom and ready to go to sleep.

The people's idol appears at head-quarters. He tells all the boys of his good fortune. They open his barrel and become more in hope of the country than ever before.

The great Corkey appears also at Lockwin's head-quarters. "Hear you've had sickness." he says. "Sorry, because I guess I've knocked you out while you was at home. I never like to take an unfair advantage of n.o.body."

"Glad to see you, Mr. Corkey. Go ahead! n.o.body happier than me to-day."

"He beats me," said Corkey; "but he isn't goin' to be so sweet to-night."

"Oh, I'm elected, sure!" Corkey announces on the docks. "Harpwood he offer me the collectorship of the port if I git down. But I go round to Lockwin's, and he seem to hope I'd win. He beats _me_."

"Why, he's the machine man, Corkey. You don't expect to beat the machine?"

"Cert. All machines is knocked out, some time, ain't they?"

"Not by the marines, Corkey."

"I can lick the man who comes down on these docks to say I'm going to get the worst of it."

Corkey is accordingly elected, and all hands take a drink at the other fellow's invitation, for which the great Corkey demands the privilege of paying. With this prologue the crowds start for the primaries.

"Lockwin, I expect you to stand straight up to the work to-day. You went back on us a little through the week. I know how sickness is, but my wife died while I was in charge of one campaign. Politics is politics. Stand to the work to-day. Nothing's the matter. You've created a good feeling among the boys. I've got to give the car company some more streets anyhow. The residents are hot for facilities. So don't bother about their coming over. They will be over about three o'clock. Let Corkey have the precincts of the Second and Third. If he comes further, a-repeating, you folks must fight. He will vote the gamblers but they will put in vest-pocket tickets for you. Understand? Got all I said? Give Corkey two wards---if he can get the sailors up."

Such are the day's injunctions of the political boss. It is only a special election in one district. It is practically settled already.

The boss has a thousand other matters of equal moment.

This is a day on which the prominent citizen stays out of politics.

The polling booths are built of stout timber in front of some saloon.

The line which is in possession votes all day. Every vote counts one.

The sailors arrive and form in line before the various polls of the Second and Third wards.

A stranger--a tenderfoot--that is, a resident party man, ent.i.tled to vote--takes his place in the line.

"What did you tell me I lied for?" asks a very tough politician.

"I didn't tell you you lied."

"I lie, do I?"

Several toughs seize the infuriated politician and hold him while the resident escapes.

These wards will be carried for Corkey. In twice as many other precincts the situation is precisely the same, except that Harpwood and Lockwin, the recognized rivals, have the polls.

At three o'clock the wagons begin to unload, vote and reload. A place is made at the head of the line for these "pa.s.sengers."

The "pa.s.senger" sailors vote at all of Corkey's precincts. They start for the other wards.

Now we may see the man Lockwin as commandant. He has the police and the touching committees. He is voting his own "pa.s.sengers" by the thousands.

The sailors arrive in wagons.

"You can't unload here!" says Lockwin.

The sailors unload.