Abbeville progress. (Abbeville, Vermilion Parish, La.) 1913-1944, 1913-07-26
went, and after gazing a moment IN
silence Hardy said:


Kit. and It comes at the psychological
moment. It'll elect him"
"Oh. he was elected. anyhow"
Hardy shook his head. and I'm the
movement kittreii saw how the strain
OF the campaign had told on him. NO.
he wasn't; the way they've been ham
mering him is something fierce: and
the Telegraph-well. 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" lie smiled, and Kittrell
blushed and looked away.
Hardy was right. The Kit" car
toon, back in the Post. created its sen
sation, and after it appeared the po-
iiticaf reporters said # had started a
landslide to Clayton; that the betting
was to and no takers. and that II
WAS all over but the shouting.
That night. as they were at dinner.
the telephone rang. and in 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; III come every night
and sit In the front seat"
When KittrelI displaced Edith al
the telephone. he heard the voice OF
John Clayton. lower in register ana
somewhat husky after four weeks
speaking. but more musical than ever
in Kittrell's ears when 1t said:
Il just told the little woman. Neil,
that didn't know how to say It, so
wanted her to thank you for me. II
was beautiful in you, and wish /
were worthy OF IT. IL was simply your
own good soul expressing itself"
And 1t 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 a month, and his contract dill
fered from that ordinarily made by the
members of a 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 a
check for his months work. lie held
II up for Ediths inspection.
"Of course. III have TO send II
back" he said.
Certainly"
DO you think me quixotic?"
We'll. we're poor enough as IT is
let's have some Injuries; let's be quix-
otto until after election. at least"
Sure" said Neil; Just what | was
thinking. I'm going to do a cartoon
every day for the Post until election
day. and I'm not going to take a cent.
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. Injuries 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 Ciayton's meetings. The ex.
perience was revelation to them
both-the crowds. the waiting Tor the
singing OF the automobiles siren, the
wild cheers that & eeted Clayton. and
then his speech. his appeals TO the best
there was in men. He had never made
such speeche2, and long aiterward
Edith could hear those cheers and see
the faces OF those workingmen agiow
with the hope. the passion. the ferv
ent religion OF democracy. And those
days came to their glad climax thai
! night when they met at the office OF
the Post to receive the returns, In ar
atmosphere quivering with excite
ment, with messenger boys and repor
tiers coming and going, and In the
street outside an immense crowd
| swaying and rocking between the
walls on either side, with screams and
| shouts and mad huzzas, and the wild
! blowing Of horns-all the hideous
happy noise an American election
| night crowd can make.
Late In the evening Clayton had
made his way, somehow unnoticed
through the crowd, and entered the OF
fee. He was happy in the great tri
umph he would not accept as personal
claiming II 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 swelled to a mighty cres
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.
win 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.