asier to walk."

"That's true," Madeline put in. "A little dog isn't a very good guide up
the hilly road of righteousness. As for me, I prefer open-eyed obedience
to blind obedience."

"I'll be bound you prefer obedience anyway," Dick said in an undertone,
and he looked at her as though something in her hurt him. He turned
abruptly to Mr. Preston.

"Preston," he said, "I wish we could hold a special election and put you
into the executive chair before your time. Every kind of evil thing is
taking advantage of our present lax administration. I believe the crooks
of other cities are flying to us on the wings of the wind. One of the
plain-clothes men told me to-day that the government detectives have
traced a gang of counterfeiters to our beloved city, though they have
not succeeded in spotting the rascals' whereabouts. It's rather
humiliating to find St. Etienne picked out as a good hiding-place for
any villany there is going."

"You needn't be so sure that a special election or any other kind would
carry us in," laughed Mr. Preston. "I'm not so confident as you seem,
Percival, that this community is overwhelmed with the consciousness of
its rare opportunity."

And so the talk drifted on, as usual, to politics.

After dinner, in the drawing-room, Lena saw her husband in conversation
with Ram Juna. The two crossed the room, and Dick introduced the new
prophet.

"I fear my too constant inspection disturbed you. Myriad pardons for
me," began the Swami in his mellifluous voice. "It is the tribute. When
I feel deep interest I am prone to forget all but my study. See, I am
the last of a family once powerful and wealthy; yet I hardly regret that
heritage that I have lost. I look at you. You are the type of another
fate. You are a bride, young, lovely, with the vigor and glory of this
new race of America. I envy not, but I wonder. So I look too long."

Lena glanced discomfited at the retreating back of her husband and
said, "I'm sure I didn't notice anything peculiar."

A curious gleam came into Ram Juna's sleepy eyes.

"Ah, then you, like me, love to examine the soul, your own or another's.
You have fellow feeling. So you forgive. May I sit here beside you?"

Lena drew aside her petticoats and the Swami shared her little sofa.

"You see that while you make study of others, I make study of you. I
should wish to be your friend. I should in fact fear to have you count
me an enemy."

Lena blinked at him in an uncompr