"The end of the upper and the middle classes. Everybody will have to work for a living."
"Who's going to be elected this fall?" asked Jane. "Your man?"
"Yes," said Doctor Charlton. "Victor Dorn thinks not. But he always takes the gloomy view. And he doesn't meet and talk with the fellows on the other side, as I do."
Hastings was looking out from under the vizor of his cap with a peculiar grin. It changed to a look of startled inquiry as Charlton went on to say:
"Yes, we'll win. But the Davy Hull gang will get the offices."
"Why do you think that?" asked old Hastings sharply.
Charlton eyed his patient with a mocking smile. "You didn't think any one knew but you and Kelly—did you?" laughed he.
"Knew what?" demanded Hastings, with a blank stare.
"No matter," said Charlton. "I know what you intend to do. Well, you'll get away with the goods. But you'll wish you hadn't. You old-fashioned fellows, as I've been telling you, don't realize that times have changed."
"Do you mean, Doctor, that the election is to be stolen away from you?" inquired Jane.