he, Freckles McGrath, who had won this great victory for reform. It
was he, Freckles McGrath, who had assured the Governor's future.
Why, perhaps he had that afternoon made for himself a name which
would be handed down in the histories!

Freckles was a kind little boy, and he knew that an elegant
gentleman could not find the attic any too pleasant a place in which
to spend the afternoon, go he decided to go up and get Mr. Ludlow.
It took courage; but he had won his victory and this was no time for
faltering.

There was something gruesome about the long ascent. He thought of
stories he had read of lonely turrets in which men were beheaded,
and otherwise made away with. It seemed he would never come to the
top, and when at last he did it was to find two of the most
awful-looking eyes he had ever seen--eyes that looked as though
furies were going to escape from them--peering down upon him.

The sight of that car, moving smoothly and securely up to the top,
and the sight of that audacious little boy with the freckled face
and the bat-like eyes, that little boy who had played his game so
well, who had wrought such havoc, was too much for Henry Ludlow's
self-control. Words such as he had never used before, such as he
would not have supposed himself capable of using, burst from him.
But Freckles stood calmly gazing up at the infuriated lobbyist, and
just as Mr. Ludlow was saying, "I'll beat your head open, you little
brat!" he calmly reversed the handle and sent the car skimming
smoothly to realms below. He was followed by an angry yell, and then
by a loud request to return, but he heeded them not, and for some
time longer the car made its usual rounds between the basement and