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Uncle John pushed back his chair.
“Poor boy!” he said. “What ever induced him to attempt such a thing?”
“He wanted to defeat a bad man who now represents Kenneth’s district,” explained Patsy, whose wise little head was full of her friend’s difficulties; “and—”
“And the bad man objects to the idea and won’t be defeated,” added the Major. “It’s a way these bad men have.”
Uncle John was looking very serious indeed, and Patsy regarded him gratefully. Her father never would be serious where Kenneth was concerned. Perhaps in his heart the grizzled old Major was a bit jealous of the boy.
“I think,” said the girl, “that Mr. Watson got Ken into politics, for he surely wouldn’t have undertaken such a thing himself. And, now he’s in, he finds he’s doomed to defeat; and it’s breaking his heart, Uncle John.”
The little man nodded silently. His chubby face was for once destitute of a smile. That meant a good deal with Uncle John, and Patsy knew she had interested him in Kenneth’s troubles.
“Once,” said the Major, from behind the morning paper, “I was in politics, meself. I ran for coroner an’ got two whole votes—me own an’ the undertaker’s. It’s because the public’s so indiscriminating that I’ve not run for anything since—except th’ street-car.”