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At eight o'clock on the morning of election day, Peabody, in the Scarlet Car, was on his way to vote. He lived at Riverside Drive, and the polling-booth was only a few blocks distant. During the rest of the day he intended to use the car to visit other election districts, and to keep him in touch with the Reformers at the Gilsey House.

It had color, that voice; it had a quality so sharp, so individual that it touched her with a mischievous wonder that he dared speak so differently from all the world about him. Then, six pictures away, she heard her own name. "Why, Flora Gilsey!" It was Ella's husky, boyish note. "I've been looking for you all the evening! How d'y'do, Harry?" She waved her hand at him. "Why, how d'y'do, Mrs.

Old Tim's illness was more protracted than any one had contemplated, and, before the first winter was out, Gordon had a reputation as a stage-driver second only to old Gilsey himself. Stage-driving, however, was not his only occupation, and before the next Spring had passed, Keith had become what Mr. Plume called "one of Gumbolt's rising young sons."

Uncle Tim was tellin' me about you." "Yes; I got here night before last. Who is Uncle Tim?" "Uncle Tim Gilsey." She walked up and extended her hand to him with the most perfect friendliness, adding, with a laugh as natural as a child's: "We'll have to be friends; Uncle Tim says you're a white man, and that's more than some he brings over the road these days are." "Yes, I hope so. You are Mr.

Above us Daly's is closing and its fashionable audience pouring out on the pavement. In Twenty-ninth Street, the Cairo, the Alhambra, the Bohemia, are just as brilliant and fascinating as usual. I remember, one evening, as I was passing the ladies' entrance to the Gilsey House, on my way home from the club, out comes a visiting family party monsieur et madame et sa fille.

Balsam when he attended an old stage-driver, Gilsey by name, and cut a bullet out of what he called his "off-leg." This was the veiled Golconda. To the original name of Humboldt the picturesque and humorous mountaineer had given the name of "Gumbolt."

At between six and seven of a spring or summer evening, therefore, we issued from his suite at the Gilsey House, whither he had returned to dress, and invading the bar below were at once centered among a group who knew him. More laughter, a cigar perhaps.

Gilsey had let fall about Keith, Mr. Halbrook sent next day for Keith. He wanted him to do a small piece of surveying for him. With him was the stout Scotchman, Matheson. The papers and plats were on a table in his room, and Keith was looking at them. "How long would it take you to do it?" asked Mr. Halbrook. He was a short, alert-looking man, with black eyes and a decisive manner.

The words came from them simultaneously, and almost at the same instant Flora had started across the lawn. The sight of an aproned maid coming out on the veranda and peering down the garden set her running fleetly. "It's a telephone for Miss Gilsey," the girl said. "Oh, thank you," Flora panted.

She gave a little whimper, and then, as if not trusting herself further, walked hastily away. Mr. Gilsey said to Gordon soon afterwards: "Well, you've got one friend in Gumbolt as is a team by herself; you've captured Terp. She says you're the only man in Gumbolt as treats her like a lady." Keith was both pleased and relieved. A week or two after Keith had taken up his abode in Gumbolt, Mr.