traditions of his office as to beguile his spare moments by whacking
the heads of his friends in a game of singlestick. Why not a mayor who
plays baseball in the park? What an old fogy you are, Cardington!"

"Old!" Cardington echoed ruefully. "My dear bishop! And you baptised
my infant head after you came to your Episcopal office!"

"Ah, but I was young then," the bishop retorted, "or I should never
have assumed that responsibility."

They were still laughing at this sally when the maid appeared in the
door to announce that dinner was served. Seeing a late caller, she
hesitated, and Cardington broke in.

"I must go now," he announced. "Remember, Miss Felicity, not to overdo
the matter of eating sweetmeats. There would be a certain unnecessary
redundancy in such an indulgence, a carrying of coals to Newcastle, so
to speak."

"No, you must stay to dinner," she urged, "and afterward smoke one of
father's cigars to solace you for the loss of the box you might have
had if the election had gone the other way."

"Might have had!" he retorted. "You mean would have had. I hope there
was no doubt of your intention to pay your honest debts."

"Come," the bishop interrupted, taking him by the arm and marching him
away, "enough of these quibbles. You must stay, of course."

"But this is the irony of fate," he continued, glancing back fondly at
his daughter, "that in spite of all my preaching, I have not been able
to convince the one nearest me of the iniquity of gambling."

"I am reminded of that historic occasion," Cardington answered, "when
you preached a sermon against the putting on of apparel and the
plaiting of the hair, and extolled the inward adornment of a meek and
quiet spirit, quoting St. Peter and Tertullian with singular effect"--

"But how was I to know," Miss Wycliffe put in, "that the return of that
sermon from the bottom of the barrel would coincide with the appearance
of my new hat?"

"It was just that lack of cooperation between you and your right
reverend father which scandalised the congregation," Cardington
commented.

"It was a beautiful hat," she mused regretfully. "Every one admired
it."

"Yes, yes," said the bishop. "'And a man's foes shall be they of his
own household.'"

Strange to say, this quotation, so lightly uttered, was destined to
strike the keynote of the dinner. The subject of the mayor-elect was
too vividly present in the minds of all three to be long absent from