Ed grunted and smoked harder than ever.
At half past seven, the elder Chase himself dropped in. “Good morning, boys,” he called from the door. “Splendid day, now isn’t it?”
“Fine,” said Jim Thomas.
Chase produced cigars; he dispensed them graciously. Only Ed Howe refused the proffered smoke.
“Oh, come, Ed,” Chase insisted. “Don’t be afraid of hurting my feelings.”
“Never smoke ’em,” said Ed shortly.
“Want to vote once or twice?” Jim Thomas asked, grinning.
Chase chuckled. “I’ve cast my vote. Second ballot in my precinct, Jim.”
“Better chuck in a few more,” Jim advised. “Hollow’s running strong.” He said this seriously, but every one knew it was a joke. Even Ed Howe grinned.
Chase presently departed, still amiable and gracious. His visit had stimulated the imagination of Jim Thomas; and after a little while he rose and took his hat and went down to a group of men in the street outside. Ed looked out of the window curiously. He saw Jim go among the group, hat in hand, obviously taking up a collection. The man seemed to take the matter as a joke. But Jim was grave.