at intervals.

It was a sad and deserted outlook, that from the seat of Mr. Pulcifer's
"flivver" as it bounced and squeaked and rattled and splashed its way
along. But Mr. Pulcifer himself was not sad, at least his appearance
certainly was not. Swinging jauntily, if a trifle ponderously, with the
roll of the little car, his clutch upon the steering wheel expressed
serene confidence and his manner self-satisfaction quite as serene.
His plaid cap was tilted carelessly down toward his right ear, the tilt
being balanced by the upward cock of his cigar toward his left ear. The
light-colored topcoat with the soiled collar was open sufficiently at
the throat to show its wearer's chins and a tasty section of tie and
cameo scarf-pin below them. And from the corner of Mr. Pulcifer's mouth
opposite that occupied by the cigar came the words and some of the tune
of a song which had been the hit of a "Follies" show two seasons
before. No, there was nothing dismal or gloomy in Mr. Horatio Pulcifer's
appearance as he piloted his automobile toward home at the close of that
October afternoon.

And his outward seeming did not belie his feelings. He had spent
a pleasant day. At South Wellmouth, his first port of call, he had
strengthened his political fences by dropping in upon and chatting with
several acquaintances who prided themselves upon being "in the know"
concerning local political opinion and drift. Mr. "Raish" Pulcifer--no
one in Ostable county ever referred to him as Horatio--had already held
the positions of town clerk, selectman, constable and postmaster.
Now, owing to an unfortunate shift in the party vote, the public was,
temporarily, deprived of his services. However, it was rumored that he
might be persuaded to accept the nomination for state representative if
it were offered to him. His acquaintances at South Wellmouth had that