He talks to the nearest person and to Davy.

There is a great noise at the head of the street. There is an inflow
of the people. The shrill flageolet, the brass horns, the bass drums,
the crash of the general brass and the triangle--these sounds fill the
air.

Where is the people's idol, elected to Congress by to-night's count,
already conceded at Opposition head-quarters?

The orator stands over his dead. What is that? Elected to Congress?
A speech?

"It will be better," says Richard Tarbelle. "Come up on the balcony,
Mr. Lockwin. It will be better."

This noise relieves the father's brain. How fortunate it has come.
The orator goes up by a rear stairway. He appears on the balcony.
There is a cheer that may be heard all over the South Side.

"He looks haggard," says the first citizen.

"You'd look tired if you opened your barrel the way he did," vouchsafes
the second citizen.

The orator lifts his voice. It is the proudest moment of his life, he
assures them. In this eventful day's work the nation has been offered
a guarantee of its welfare. The sanctity of our institutions has been
vindicated.