Jim was walking around with his hands
in his pockets, looking unconcerned, and,
as the furniture began to go off, he came
and sat down in the midst of it. Every
one noticed his indifference. Some of them
said that after all he couldn't have been
very ambitious. He didn't seem to take
his failure much to heart. Every one was
concentrating attention on the cooking-
stove, when Jim leaned forward, quickly,
over a little wicker work-stand.

There was a bit of unfinished sewing there,
and it fell out as he lifted the cover. It was
a baby's linen shirt. Jim let it lie, and then
lifted from its receptacle a silver thimble.
He put it in his vest-pocket.

The campaign came on shortly after this,
and Jim Lancy was defeated. "I'm going
to Omaha," said he to the station-master,
"and I've got just enough to buy a ticket
with. There's a kind of satisfaction in giv-
ing the last cent I have to the railroads."

Two months later, a "plain drunk" was
registered at the station in Nebraska's me-
tropolis. When they searched him they
found nothing in his pockets but a silver
thimble, and Joe Benson, the policeman