I do care immensely to be one of those who will clean up this
city and keep it clean. Perhaps, if we do these near-by things, the big
ones will come, by and by."

"A sort of public housemaid," said Lena scornfully.

"Exactly!" Dick laughed and nodded.

But Lena shrugged her shoulders and pouted as the door shut and she idly
watched her husband's final hand-wave.

He walked down town and the fresh northern air set his pulses
quickening. He noted how few gray heads there were, how full everything
seemed of the vitality of youth. On the piazzas were groups of happy
well-kept children, bundled up for winter play and bubbling over with
exuberance. To any passer-by they told that these were the homes of
young married people. Everywhere life looked sweet and normal and
vigorous. And he knew that for miles in every direction there were more
such homes of more such people.

But when he reached the part of town whither his steps were bent, all
this was reversed. Here was dirt, if not of body, then of spirit. Here
were a thousand evil influences at work. Here was public plundering for
private greed; here were wire-pullings and bargainings and selfishness
reigning supreme. And these forces were the nominal rulers of a city,
the greater part of whose life was good.

However, he was getting the ropes in his hands. These things were no
longer vague generalities floating in his mind, as rosy clouds might be
backed by thunder-heads on the horizon. They were growing definite. He
began to know who were the evil-workers and how they did it. He had the
art of making friends, and he made friends among publicans and sinners
as well as--well, there weren't any saints in St. Etienne to make
friends with. At any rate some of the powers that were began to say that
Dick Percival knew entirely too much. And some of the powers that ought
to be, but still slept, namely the good citizens of St. Etienne, found
their slumbers disturbed by his straight and convincing words.

But to-day all his labors seemed not worth while. There was a sour taste
in his mouth. To do the little thing with a big heart was after all
nothing but a sham. His ideals, he thought, had simmered down to petty
things. He was spending his time in nosing out small evil-smelling
scandals and in running for a mean inferior office. He felt nauseated
with himself. Worse, he felt a horrible new doubt of his wife. Mrs.
Appleton had been to him the type of woman he disliked, worldly