Chap­ter 42: The Elec­tion opens with a qui­et ten­sion as Jer­ry Bark­er finds him­self caught between finan­cial oppor­tu­ni­ty and moral clar­i­ty. Polit­i­cal cam­paigns sweep through the town with loud pro­ces­sions and busy can­vassers eager to rent every avail­able cab. Jer­ry, though offered good mon­ey, firm­ly refus­es to par­tic­i­pate. The idea of trans­port­ing drunk­en vot­ers for polit­i­cal gain unset­tles him. More than dis­com­fort, it’s about dignity—both for him­self and for the hors­es he relies on. He believes no amount of pay is worth degrad­ing the cab or mis­us­ing the trust he places in his ani­mals. Oth­ers may see it as just part of the job, but Jer­ry holds to the belief that work should nev­er com­pro­mise a man’s prin­ci­ples. Even when he’s pressed with rea­sons and reas­sur­ances, he calm­ly explains that his refusal is not a judg­ment on oth­ers, but a deci­sion based on his own sense of right and wrong.

His stance deep­ens fur­ther when he con­sid­ers the can­di­date him­self. Although they may share polit­i­cal lean­ings, Jer­ry can­not sup­port a man whose for­tune was made from sell­ing alcohol—a trade he views as deeply harm­ful to fam­i­lies like his own. This per­son­al con­vic­tion, born from lived expe­ri­ence, keeps him ground­ed when oth­ers waver. Jer­ry once strug­gled with drink and knows first­hand the dam­age it brings. That aware­ness shapes his deci­sion-mak­ing, not just in vot­ing but in how he choos­es to engage with soci­ety. For Jer­ry, par­tic­i­pat­ing in the election—either by help­ing the cam­paign or cast­ing his vote—must align with his con­science. The con­ver­sa­tion in his home becomes a qui­et act of resis­tance against the notion that prac­ti­cal­i­ty should always win over prin­ci­ple. His chil­dren, lis­ten­ing near­by, absorb more than just his words—they wit­ness integri­ty in action. It’s a les­son not taught, but lived.

The moral thread of the chap­ter extends beyond pol­i­tics when young Dol­ly, Jerry’s daugh­ter, returns home in tears after being mocked by oth­er chil­dren. They tease her because her fam­i­ly is seen as “odd” for not par­tic­i­pat­ing in the flashy activ­i­ties of the elec­tion day. Her broth­er Har­ry doesn’t hesitate—he steps in to defend her, trad­ing insults for action and giv­ing one of the boys a firm shove. When Jer­ry learns what hap­pened, he finds him­self in a com­pli­cat­ed posi­tion. He’s proud of Har­ry for defend­ing his sis­ter but trou­bled by the use of force. His guid­ance is thought­ful rather than scold­ing. He prais­es the loy­al­ty but encour­ages his son to think about whether there might be bet­ter ways to respond in the future. In this, Jer­ry teach­es that jus­tice and restraint are not at odds—they can work togeth­er when han­dled with wis­dom.

Dolly’s expe­ri­ence is a reflec­tion of how chil­dren are often caught in the rip­ple effects of adult deci­sions. Her class­mates repeat what they hear at home, mock­ing val­ues they don’t ful­ly under­stand. But in her own qui­et way, Dol­ly begins to grasp that being dif­fer­ent isn’t wrong when it’s root­ed in some­thing hon­est. Jer­ry doesn’t shield his chil­dren from the world; instead, he walks beside them as they learn to stand firm with grace. These small­er moments—within the fam­i­ly, away from crowds—are where val­ues are shaped and solid­i­fied. And Anna Sewell uses them to remind read­ers that the true strength of a per­son often reveals itself in how they nav­i­gate the every­day, not just the extra­or­di­nary.

This chap­ter weaves per­son­al ethics with pub­lic action in a way that feels time­less. Jerry’s refusal to serve the elec­tion cam­paign isn’t loud or con­fronta­tion­al, but it car­ries weight. It’s a stand made with qui­et con­fi­dence, show­ing how a sin­gle deci­sion can pre­serve self-respect even in a soci­ety that often push­es for com­pro­mise. For mod­ern read­ers, the sce­nario may echo in sit­u­a­tions where work, com­mu­ni­ty, or even social cir­cles demand choic­es that con­flict with per­son­al beliefs. The mes­sage is clear—integrity doesn’t always look grand. Some­times, it means turn­ing down a prof­itable offer or gen­tly cor­rect­ing a child. It means hold­ing fast when it would be eas­i­er to bend.

Polit­i­cal land­scapes may change, but the core of this story—choosing prin­ci­ple over popularity—remains deeply rel­e­vant. Anna Sewell doesn’t just tell us what Jer­ry believes; she shows us why it mat­ters. In doing so, she encour­ages every read­er to con­sid­er what they stand for and how they demon­strate that con­vic­tion in every­day life. Whether it’s in refus­ing a job that feels wrong or teach­ing chil­dren how to act with hon­or, the echoes of Jerry’s exam­ple linger well beyond the final page. It’s a por­trait of moral courage paint­ed in the soft hues of every­day choices—a reminder that char­ac­ter, more than opin­ion, defines the peo­ple we become.