The Mount Holly news. [volume] (Mount Holly, Burlington Co., N.J.) 1891-1942, 1913-07-15
ESTABLISHED 1876

I Hardy shook his head. and in the
movement Kittrell saw how the strain
Of the campaign had told ON him. mo,
he wasn't; the way they've been nam-
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" He smiled, and Kittreu
blushed and looked away.
Hardy was right The Kit" car
toon, back in the Post, created its SEN
sation, and after it appeared the pe-
litical reporters said it had started a
landslide to Clayton; that the betting
was to l and no takers, and that it
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; I'll come every night
and sit in the front seat"
When Kittrell displaced Edith at
the telephone, he heard the voice OF
John Clayton, lower In register and
somewhat husky after four weeks
speaking, but more musical than ever
in Kittrells ears when it said:
Il just told the little woman, Neil,
that l didn't know how to say it. SO /
wanted her to thank you for me. 1t
was beautiful in you, and l wish 1
were worthy Of It; it 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 we'll.
But one question remained unset
tied. Kittrell had been on the Tele-
graph a month, and his contract diff
fered from that ordinarily made by the
members of newspaper stan 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 TeIe-
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. He held
1t up for Edith's inspection.
"Of course, I'll have to send it
back" he said. !
Certainly"
DO you think me quixotic?"
well, we're poor enough as it is.
let's have some Injuries; let's be quiz
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 cent. /
don't want to crowd Banks out, you !
know, and l want to do my part for
Clayton and the cause, and do 1t, just
once. for the pure love OF the thing"
Those last days of the campaign
were, indeed, Injuries to Kittrell and I
to Edith, days of work and fun and ex-
element. All day Kittrell worked on +
his cartoons, and on the evening they /
went to Clayton's meetings. The ext
perience was 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-
emit religion of democracy. And those
days came to their glad climax that
night when they met at the ONCE 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
flee. 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 swelIed to a mighty cree
cendo, and Hardy cried;
"Look!"
They ran to the window. The boysS
upstairs who were manipulating thel
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.
"oh, it's not me they're cheering
for" he said; "it's for Kit, here"
well, perhaps some OF it's for
him." Edith admitted, Loyalty.
They were silent, seized irresfstibly
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
than to know that you have done a
good thing-and done 1t well?"
Yes" said Clayton, Just one: to
have a few friends who understand
You are right" said Edith. 1T is
SO with art, and it must be so with
life; it makes an art of life
1t was dark enough there by the
window for her to slip her hand into
that of Nell, who had been musin6
silently on the crowd.
Il can never say again." she said
softly, that those people are not
worth sacrifice. They are worth allr
they are everything; they are the
hope OF the world; and their longings
and their needs, and the possibility OF
bringing them to pass, are all that
give significance to life"
That's what America is for" said
Clayton, land it's worth while to be
allowed to help even In little way
to make, as old Walt says, a nation of
frfands Of anuala'"