And Doyle, indeed, in that last threatening night, came nobly to the front. To Gordon's benumbed brain, at many a critical moment, he furnished the inspiration, and always the inspiration was a happy one. Over in respectable ward ten, Gordon, finishing his plea for righteousness, for decency, for common honesty, had come out into the street to find his motor surrounded by a crowd of street urchins, all anxious in due time to become politicians, and all beginning on solid Democratic principles.
"That's Gordon," they chorused shrilly. "That's the guy." And then, in the jargon of the day, surrounding the automobile, they fairly rent the air with the insistent cry: "Well, what do you say?" "Well, what do you say?" "Can't get elected if you don't scatter the coin." "What do you say?"
The crowd, appreciating the incident to the full, paused. Gordon, not knowing whether he was in ward ten or ward twenty-six, mechanically was on the point of plunging his hand into his capacious, jingling pockets, when Doyle clutched his arm. "For God's sake," he whispered, "don't! Get up and tell the crowd you won't stand for such a thing. Give it to 'em strong."
The suggestion was enough. Gordon nodded, and in an instant was on his feet. "Gentlemen," he said quickly, "I have been telling you that there is something wrong in our state to-day, and when those in authority set the standards they do, what can you expect from the boys who, twenty years from now, will stand in our places? It gives us food for thought to see these boys, the products of our public schools, and yet I think the blame is scarcely theirs. If elected, I pledge myself to see that a course in the simple ethics of right and wrong in respect to our government is included in future in the curriculum of our schools, and for the present, let me say that, rather than give one of these boys a cent of the money for which he asks, without, I believe, fully realizing the enormity of which he is guilty, I will suffer defeat, and suffer it gladly, at the polls to-morrow."
He resumed his seat amid a genuine burst of cheers. "By George," one old conservative was heard to say to a friend, as the motor vanished in a cloud of dust, "that fellow's got the right ring to what he says. He means it, too, every word. I've voted the straight Republican ticket for thirty years, but I'm hanged if I don't give this man a vote tomorrow. I'd like to see what he'll do if he wins."