when the Pixley gives forth initial impulses of his own, such as may
alter the upper surface; for, in a system of this character, every
twitch is felt throughout the whole ramification.

"Hello, boys," the committee-man called out with automatic geniality,
as he descended the broken steps. "How are ye? All here? That's good;
that's the stuff! Good work!"

Only Toby replied with more than an indifferent grunt; but he ran
forward, carrying an empty beer keg which he placed as a seat for the
guest.

"Aha_ha_, Meesa Peeslay! Make a parade? Torchlight?
Bandaplay--ta ra, la la la? Firework? Fzzz! Boum! Eh?"

The politician responded to Toby's extravagantly friendly laughter
with some mechanical cachinnations which, like an obliging salesman,
he turned on and off with no effort. "Not by a dern sight!" he
answered. "The campaign ain't begun yet."

"Champagne?" inquired Tobigli politely.

"Campaign, campaign," explained Pixley. "Not much champagne in
yours!" he chuckled beneath his breath. "Blame lucky to git Chicago
bowl!"

"What is that, that campaign?"

"Why--why, it's the campaign. Workin' up public sentiment; gittin' you
boys in line, 'lect-ioneerin'--fixin' it _right_."