Republican eena thees house! Hoor-r-ra!"

"Well," said Pixley, with a furtiveness half habit, as he rose to go,
"of course, you want to keep your eye on your committee-man, and kind
of foller along with him, whatever he does. That's me." He placed a
dingy bottle on the keg. "I jest dropped in to see how you boys were
gittin' along--mighty tidy little place you got here." He changed the
stub of his burnt-out cigar to the other side of his mouth, shifting
his eyes in the opposite direction, as he continued benevolently: "I
thought I'd look in and leave this bottle o' gin fer ye, with my
compliments. I'll be around ag'in some evenin', and I reckon before
'lection day comes there may be somep'n doin'--I might have better fer
ye than a bottle. Keep your eye on me, boys, an' foller the
leader. That's the idea. So long!"

"Vote a Republican!" Pietro shouted after him gaily.

Pixley turned.

"Jest foller yer leader," he rejoined. "That's the way to learn
politics, boys."

Now as the rough spring wore on into the happier season, with the days
like spiced warm wine, when people on the street are no longer driven
by the weather but are won by it to loiter; now, indeed, did commerce
at Toby's new stand so mightily thrive that, when summer came, Bertha
was troubled as to the safety of Toby's profits.

"You yoost put your money by der builtun-loan 'sociation, Toby," she
advised gently. "Dey safe ut fer you."