The most unmoved member of the company was the redoubtable Tom himself,
who, stretched upon the slippery black leather lounge, hoarse as a frog
from much addressing of obdurate electors, was endeavoring to sing
"Just Before the Battle, Mother," hitting the tune only in the most
inconspicuous places!
The Secretary, with the list in his hand, went over the names:
"Jim Stewart--Jim's solid; he doesn't want Reciprocity, because he sent
to the States once for a washing-machine for his wife, and smuggled it
through from St. Vincent, and when he got it here his wife wouldn't use
it!
"Abe Collins--Abe's not right and never will be--he saw Sir Wilfrid
once--
"John Thomas Green--say, how about Jack? Surely we can corral Jack.
He's working for you, Milt, isn't he?" addressing one of the
scrutineers.
"Leave him to me," said Milt, with an air of mystery; "there's no one
has more influence with Jack than me. No, he isn't with me just now,
he's over with my brother Angus; but when he comes in to vote I'll be
there, and all I'll have to do is to lift my eyes like this" (he showed
them the way it would be done) "and he'll vote--right."
"How do you know he will come, though?" asked the Secretary, who had
learned by much experience that many and devious are the bypaths which
lead away from the polls!
"Yer brother Angus will be sure to bring him in, won't he, Milt?" asked
John Gray, the trusting one, who believed all men to be brothers.
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