“‘Bartly!’
“‘Aye!’
“The leaders, Jamison over on the Republican side, and Riley on the Democratic, sat at their desks, with roll-calls, at which they thoughtfully blew the smoke of their cigars as they checked off the progress of the vote. They appeared as unconcerned as the correspondents. I never can forget the drollery of the wink Jamison gave me as he voted no—it was necessary to have some one who had voted with the majority to move a reconsideration of the vote in case anything happened. ’Zeke did not resume his seat during the roll-call, as the rules permitted him to do, but stood bending over his desk with an alert eye on the cadets. The vote up to this point was propitious, but ’Zeke knew, and Jamison and Riley knew, and Judge Hardin and I knew, and we were not so sanguine as the correspondents, who had already begun to toss sheets of copy to the frowsy telegraph boys, running to and fro between the press gallery and the Western Union. We were chiefly interested just then whether Berry would vote right or not. I was keeping an eye on him and noticed that he was beginning to fidget in his seat, and chew his cigar, and tear paper into little pieces. And the roll-call went on:
“‘Beel!’
“‘Aye!’
“‘Bell!’
“‘No!’
“Bell, of course, was on the other side, and was standing back with George Herrick, keeping their fellows in line and cheering up the reformers from the Municipal League, but we knew his vote would have its effect on Berry, so I pulled the speaker’s coat-tail, and ’Zeke leaned over and whispered hoarsely to the clerk. Hen observed a lengthened pause and then began to call more slowly. Berry was the next name.
“‘Berry!’ Hen drawled.
“There was no reply.