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The convention had passed safely to the ballot. The opposition had sprung its mines; and the regulars had discharged their heavy artillery behind the proper parliamentary subterfuges. The undecided voters had, as usual, asked to take back their ballots, and as usual had been refused. The excitement had risen until it showed in white or flushed faces and strained voices, in clapping, and hisses; but the chairman’s inscrutable calm never changed, and through it all she held the convention perfectly in hand.

Two men had safely run the gauntlet of ticket takers, and were seated in the lower gallery. They were a middle-aged man, dark, portly, carefully dressed in silver-gray tweeds, with a silk shirt; and a young man, dark, slender, in a lighter suit, with a stiff white collar on his pink negligee shirt. There was an air of distinction about both men; they looked to be men of importance in their own locality, men accustomed to command and deference; but nothing of gentler modesty and meekness than their demeanor can be imagined. They shrank back in their seats and sat close to each other, as one will observe timid children sitting, who have wandered into a strange house.

“You–you don’t suppose they will put us out? eh, Darrie?” said the elder, in a low voice, “not now ?”

“Of course not,” responded Darrie, with simulated lightness; “look there to the left, there’s Myrtie. That president is a good presiding officer; you would not guess all this row is over her, she’s absolutely impartial–by Jove!”

“What’s the matter? Do you see mother anywhere?”

“No, sir; did you catch that, the secretary’s explanation of the parliamentary question? Pretty clear, I call it; but they’re getting in all their points, I observe, working questions of privilege for all they are worth.”

“Very clever, very clever,” assented Darius; “there’s Hester, mother isn’t with her; you don’t suppose mother would stay away, this afternoon?”

“Never; this is the election afternoon.”

“Myrtie said mother was very much admired and sought after, lots of invitations; maybe she has gone out to some tea–“

“They wouldn’t have anything this afternoon; don’t you see how keyed up they all are?”

“I thought I was monstrous clever planning all this,” pursued Darius, with a knitted brow; “your mother forgot this was our anniversary, but I didn’t; I have her present in my pocket; and the dinner ordered; and I was expecting to surprise her; but if she isn’t here–she couldn’t have gone home ?”

“Of course not–there she is, don’t you see her? looking fresh as paint!”

A lady had risen, her voice, mellow and clear, dove through the sonorous buzz of the hall.

“Why it’s mother !” cried Darius, “and if she isn’t taking an appeal from the chair; mother has her nerve with her, to-day.”

Darrie grinned; but as he watched his father’s face kindle, his own changed; he laid his hand on his father’s, nodding, softly: “I tell you, mother’s great,” said he.

“That little dark-eyed lady is speaking on mother’s side”–Darius was leaning forward with excited interest–“isn’t she a pretty creature, she’s little–but, oh my! How clearly she puts it; these southerners have a natural gift of oratory. Don’t think much of that woman who’s trying to call mother down!”

He was as eager as a boy, the man whose cool head and hard sense had won him a great fortune; his eyes glistened, the color crept into his cheek; and he drew a long sigh when the appeal was withdrawn. “Very pretty, Darrie,” he said, “appeal withdrawn, but they have got in their work on the voters; chairman had to decide against her own friends, and did it like a Roman soldier. The extraordinary thing to me, Darrie, is how well they are all keeping their temper. Darrie, didn’t you think mother’s voice was good when she spoke; how’d she learn to speak so well?”