"What do you call a fair
payment for the message?"
"Twenty-five dollars."
"I'll send your message."
Nevins gives the required sum, and sits at the elbow of the man who is
to flash the news of victory to Trueman.
In Wilkes-Barre the day has dawned auspiciously. Trueman is among the
first to perform his duty as a citizen. After voting he returns to his
home.
With his wife at his side he reads the dispatches that come in by a
private wire from headquarters.
"I am happier to-day than I ever was in my life before," Ethel tells
him. "And I know that you will be elected."
"I hope your words come true. But whether I am President or not my
campaign has not been in vain. I have won the fairest bride in the
world, and she and I are doing a real good with a fortune that might
have been a curse."
"Now I can understand the words that are a mystery to so many of the
rich: 'It is more blessed to give than to receive,'" Ethel says, as she
places her hand on her husband's shoulder. "Now I can appreciate the
emotion that impelled you to give the one thousand dollar check to the
miner's widow." As they sit together, through the long day, they discuss
what they will do for the improvement of the people, there is no
provision for the repayment of anti-election promises to the managers of
trusts; no talk of rewarding henchmen with high offices.
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