protesting against unsociable isolation. The Rooms, from the outside,
reminded one of a hive of angry bees. In and out of the door men were
hurrying, and a crowd swarmed on the side-walk talking in a loud,
excited hum. As soon as the Professor was recognized, a silence of
astonishment fell upon the throng. With stares of curiosity they drew
aside to let him enter. Slightly surprised by the reception, the
Professor passed into the chief room. At a table in the middle a man was
speaking in a harsh, loud voice--one Simpson, a popular orator, who had
held aloof from the meetings of the party. He was saying:

"It's a put-up game between them, but the question is, who's to go on
the ticket in--"

As Simpson's eyes met those of Roberts he stopped speaking.

"Good morning, gentlemen. Please continue, Mr. Simpson; I hope I'm not
interrupting you."

The Professor did not like Mr. Simpson. The atrabilious face, the
bitter, thin lips, and grey eyes veined with yellow, reminded him
indefinably of a wild beast. Mr. Simpson seemed to take the courteous
words as a challenge. Drawing his wiry figure up he said, with insult in
voice and manner:

"Perhaps you've come to nominate a Mayor; we'd all like to know your
choice."

"I don't understand you."

The Professor's tone was frank, his sincerity evident, but Simpson went