A conception of the serious responsibility that he was to accept assailed him. Until now the thing had been entirely personal; his thoughts had centered upon the honor that was to be his—his friends had selected him for an important position. And yet Taylor was not vain.
Now, however, ready to accept the oath of office, he realized that he was to become the servant of the municipality; that these friends of his had elected him not merely to honor him but because they trusted him, because they were convinced that he would administer the affairs of the young town capably and in a fair and impartial manner. They depended upon him for justice, advice, and guidance.
All these things, to be sure, Taylor would give them to the best of his ability. They must have known that or they would not have elected him.
These thoughts sobered him as he walked to the little wooden railing in front of the judge’s desk; and his face was grave as he looked at the other.
“I am ready to take the oath, Judge Littlefield,” he gravely announced.
Glancing sidewise, Taylor saw that a great many men had come into the room. He did not turn to look at them, however, for he saw a gleam in Judge Littlefield’s eyes that held his attention.
“That will not be necessary, Mr. Taylor,” he heard the judge say. “The governor, through the attorney-general, has ruled you were not legally elected to the office you aspire to. Only last night I was notified of the decision. It was late, or I should have taken steps to apprise you of the situation.”
Taylor straightened. He heard exclamations from many men in the room; he was conscious of a tension that had come into the atmosphere. Some men scuffled their feet; and then there was a deep silence.
Taylor smiled without mirth. His dominant emotion was curiosity.
“Not legally elected?” he said. “Why?”