Eagle River review. [volume] (Eagle River, Wis.) 1890-1927, 1913-07-25

movement Kittreil saw how the strain
of the campaign had told on him. mo,
he wasn't; the way they've been ham
Eaering him is something fierce; and
/ the Telegraph-welI, your cartoons
and all, you know
But my cartoons In the Telegraph
were rotten. Any work that is not
sincere, not Intellectually honest"
Hardy interrupted him:
Yes; but, Kit, you're so good that
your rotten is better than most any
body's best He smiled, and Kittreli
blushed and looked away.
Hardy was right. The kit car
toon, back in the Post, created its SEN
sation, and after it appeared the POI
litical reporters said it had started a
| landslide to Clayton; that the betting
was to and no takers, and that it
was all over but the shouting.
That night, as they were at dinner,
the telephone rang, and In a minute
Neil knew by Edith's excited and de-
| lighted reiteration OF yes" yes.
who had called up. And then he
heard her say:
Indeed will; I'll come every night
and sit in the front seat
| When Kittrell displaced Edith al
| the telephone, he heard the voice or
John Clayton, lower in register and
somewhat husky after four weeks
| speaking, but more musical than eyer
in Kittrells ears when it said:
Il just told the little woman, Neil.
that didn't know how to say it, so l.
wanted her to thank you for me. 1t
was beautiful in you, and / wish
were worthy of it; it was simply your
own good soul expressing ITSELF"
And it was the last delight to Kit
trell to hear that voice and to know
! that all was well.
But one question remained unset
| tied. Kittrell had been on the Tele-
! graph q month, and his contract diff
fered from that ordinarily made by the
members of newspaper staff in that
he was paid by the year, though in
monthly installments. Kittrell knew
| that he had broken his contract on
| grounds which the sordid law would
not see or recognize and the average
court think absurd, and that the Tele-
graph might legally refuse to pay him
| at ALL He hoped the Telegraph
would do this! But it did not; on the
contrary, he received the next day
check for his months. work. He held
| it up for Edith's inspection.
''Of course, I'll have to send 1t
back he said.
Certainly
| do you think me Quixotic?"
We'll, we're poor enough as it is
| let's have some luxuries; let's be quix-
otto until after election, at least
Sure" said Neil; ''just what I was
thinking. I'm going to do cartoon
every day for the Post until election
day, and I'm not going to take cent.
don't want to crowd Banks out, you
know, and want to do my part for
| Clayton and the cause, and do it, just
once. for the pure love of the thing
Those last days of the campaign
| were, indeed, luxuries to Kittrell and
| to Edith, days of work and fun and ex-
element. All day Kittrell worked on
| his cartoons, and on the evening they
went to Claytons meetings. The ex-
| perience was a revelation to them
both-the crowds, the waiting for the
singing of the automobiles siren, the
wild cheers that greeted Clayton, and
then his speech, his appeals to the best
| there was in men. He had never made
! such speeches, and long afterward
Edith could hear those cheers and see
the faces of those Workingmen aglow
with the hope, the passion, the ferv-
ent religion of democracy. And those
days came to their glad climax that
night when they met at the office OF
the Post to receive the returns.
Late in the evening Clayton had
made his way, somehow unnoticed,
through the crowd, and entered the Of
fice He was happy in the great tri.
umph he would not accept as personal.
claiming it always for the cause; but
as he dropped into the chair Hardy
pushed toward him, they all saw how
weary he was.
Just at that moment the roar In the
street below sweIled to mighty ores.
cendo, and Hardy cried:
"Look!''
They ran to the window. The boys
upstairs who were manipulating the
stereopticon had thrown on the screen
an enormous picture Of Clayton, the
portrait Kittrell had drawn for his
| cartoon.
"Will you say now there isn't the
| personal note in it," Edith asked.
Clayton glanced out the window,
across the dark, surging street, at the
picture.
"Oh, it's not me they're cheering
| for" he said; "it's for Kit, here"
We'll, perhaps some Of it's for
| him." Edith admitted, Loyalty.
They were silent, seized irresistibly
by the emotion that mastered the
mighty crowd in the dark streets be-
low. Edith was strangely moved.
Presently she could speak:
rs there anything sweeter in life