m not hungry, dear."

"You haven't spoken half a dozen words since you came home."

"Haven't I? I must have been thinking."

"About the shops?" laying her hand on his and pressing it strongly.

"Yes. I'm afraid, heart o' mine, that it's all over. If they do not
strike now, they will later on; if not on this pretext, on some
other."

"Why not let him go, John?"

"No." His jaws hardened. "It isn't a question of his going or staying;
it is simply a question of who is master, the employed or the
employer. The men say it's the principle of the thing; it shall be
fought out on those grounds. I'm going down to the club to-night with
Dick. I feel the need of getting out and breathing. Dick's not the
best company just now, but he'll understand what I need. Poor devil!
he's got his hands full, too."

She understood his mood, and offered no objection. She raised his hand
and brushed it with her lips.

"I love you, John."

He smiled gratefully.

"You go over to mother's for the evening, and I'll drop in on the way
home and pick you up."

Patty was in the music-room, so Mrs. Jack did not disturb her, but
started at her basket-work. Mrs. Bennington read till eight, and
retired. Patty played all the melancholy music she could think of.
When love first makes its entrance into the human heart, there is
neither joy nor gladness nor gaiety. On the contrary, there is a vast
shadow of melancholy, a painful sadness, doubt and cross-purpose,
boldness at one moment and timidity at the next, a longing for
solitude. Music and painting and poetry, these arts that only
attracted, now engage.

So Patty played.

Sometimes Mrs. Jack looked up from her work, wondering. She had never
heard Patty play so many haunting, dismal compositions. At nine the
telephone rang, and she dropped her work instantly, thinking the call
might be from John. Ah, if the men would only listen to reason!

"Hello!"

"Is Mrs. Bennington at home?" asked a voice, unfamiliar to her ears.

"There are two. Which one do you wish?"

"Mrs. John Bennington."

"This is Mrs. John Bennington speaking. What is it?"

There was a pause.

"I have something very important to communicate to you. In the first
place, you must use your influence in making Mr. Warrington withdraw
his name as a candidate for nomination."

"Who is this speaking?" she asked sharply.

"Mr. McQuade."

The receiver nearly fell from her hand. McQuade? What in the world--

"Did you get t