Is Dr. Tarpion to be gone another week, and is the cook right when she
says Davy must eat? "Can we not, my friends and neighbors, lend our
humble aid in restoring these magnificent institutions of liberty to
their former splendor?" [Cries of "Hear!" "Hear!" "Down in front!"]

"The winning candidate," says the majority press, "is making a
prodigious effort. It is confidentially explained that he was wounded
by the charges of desertion or lukewarmness, which were circulated
during the week of the primaries."

Dr. Floddin is therefore to take care of Davy. Dr. Floddin's horse is
sick. It is a poor nag at best--a fifty-cents-a-call steed. The
doctor meantime has a horse from the livery.

Davy is to continue the emetic treatment. He sits on the floor in the
parlor and turns his orguinette. "Back to Our Mountains" is his
favorite air. He has twenty-eight tunes, and he plays Verdi's piece
twenty-eight times as often as any of the others.

"Oh, Davy, you'll kill us!" laments the housekeeper, for the little
orguinette is stridulent and loud.

"He'll kill himself," says the cook. "He's not strong enough to grind
that hand-organ. He eats nothing at all, at all."

"Papa isn't here any more, but I take my medicine," the child says.
The drug is weakening his stomach.

"It is the only way," says Dr. Floddin, "to relieve his lungs."