of stramonium water adds its melancholy odor to the room.

It is the first trouble Lockwin has ever seen. He is as unready and
unwilling as poor little Davy. It is murder--that furnace going out.
This thought comes to Lockwin over and over; perhaps the feeling of
murder is because Davy is not an own son.

It is all wretched and hideous! The slime of politics and the smell of
flaxseed unite to demoralize the man. O if Dr. Tarpion were only here!
But Davy will take no medicine; how could Tarpion help Davy?

Yes, that medicine--ipecac! The name has been hateful to Lockwin from
childhood.

Let Corkey win the primaries! What odds? Will not that release
Lockwin from the touching committees? Does he wish to owe his election
to a street car-company in another quarter of the city?

Perhaps Harpwood will win! How would that aid Davy? Ah, Davy! Davy!
all comes back to him! It is a strange influence this little boy has
thrown upon David Lockwin, child of fortune and people's idol.

It is a decent and wholesome thing---the only good and noble deed which
David Lockwin can just now credit to himself. He bathes his hot
forehead again.

Yes, Davy! Davy! Davy--the very thought of Davy restores the fallen
spirit. That water, too, seems to purify. Water and Davy! But it is
the well Davy--the little face framed at the window, waiting for papa,
waiting to know about Josephus--it is that Davy which stimulates the