"That," said Littlefield over his shoulder, "is what I call a mighty fine campaign document. It ought to swing this election."
"Who wrote it?" Perry asked.
"I did," Littlefield said modestly. "Don't you like it?"
Perry liked it immensely. The more he thought of it, the more its arguments seemed conclusive and sweeping. Coming the day before the election, it would rivet attention on the candidates and their known capabilities. Later, in physics, when his mind should have been dissecting some problems that had to do with the energy of steam, his imagination was captivated by pictures of signs that the school would find on Nelson Avenue next morning. He intended to erect them. He even knew how the signs would look: "Thank Praska for a Clean Street." That, he told himself proudly, would be a knockout, the last straw, the winning hit, the grand finale that would bring home the bacon.
At noon, after eating, he went outdoors to decide just where the signs should go. On the outdoor steps he paused. Merritt was on the sidewalk, the center of a group of eagerly-questioning girls. He held in his hand one of the Praska circulars, and was talking lightly. Some of his audience began to laugh.
