"Hallo, Quigg!" said the driver, in a voice of double strength, snapping
his whip playfully at that gentleman as he approached.

"Hallo to _you_, Cap," returned Quigg, pleasantly. "It is a very fine
day. I guess there will be a great many calls made." Quigg uttered these
words slowly, as if they were precious, and he hated to part with them.

"Shouldn't wonder," answered Cap, which was a short name for Captain
(nobody knew of what), and added, without any apparent sequence of
ideas: "I s'pose you're goin' to take some brandy along, old fellow?
It's hardly fair for me to be sittin' into the cold outside, with
nothin' to drink, while you chaps are drinkin' your champagne punch
before a warm fire."

Mr. Quigg reflected a moment, as one who reckons up profit and loss. He
then said:

"A good idea, Cap. Brandy is not a bad thing on a cold day." He spoke
with impressive solemnity.

"Or any other day," added the driver. "Partickley 'lection day.
Leastways, such was the 'pinion of the voters into my ward, last
December, when I run for School Inspector, you know. Unfortunately, I
didn't know the ropes then; and thought, when I got the nomination, I
was sure to be 'lected. My 'ponent issued tickets for free drinks at all
the rum mills into the ward. I didn't find out his game till about two
o'clock in the afternoon, and then I tried it myself. But I was too
late. He had six hours' start of me, and beat me by five hundred
drinks--I mean votes."