ight. "If I could only spare the time to
help you--but you see, this is my dull season--I have to work twice as
hard as usual to make an honest dollar--"

"Would you accept an honorarium?"

"Beg pardon?"

"If you took charge of the drive, would you accept a salary? And give
us most of your time? Say, four days a week?"

Once more, his thoughts raced through the year. "Now," he said,
presently, "you _are_ making it hard for me to refuse."

"Only that? Haven't I made it impossible?"

To Mr. Mix, her tone was almost more of a challenge than an
invitation. He looked at her again; and at last he nodded. "I
think--you have."

She held out her hand. "I've always respected you as a man. Now I
greet you as a comrade. We'll make this city a place where a
pure-minded man or woman won't be ashamed to live. I tell you, I won't
be satisfied until we reach the _ideal_! And prohibition was only one
tiny move in advance, and we've miles to go. I'm glad we're going the
rest of the way together. And it wouldn't surprise me in the least if
you came out of it Mayor. That's _my_ idea."

Mr. Mix, with the faint aroma of cloves in his nostrils, backed away.

"Oh, no, I don't dream of _that_ ..." he said. "But I feel as if I'd
taken one of the most significant steps of my whole life. I--I think
I'd better say good afternoon, Miss Starkweather. I want to be
alone--and meditate. You understand?"

"Like Galahad," she murmured.

Mr. Mix looked puzzled; he thought she had a cold. But he said no
more; he went home to his bachelor apartment, and after he had helped
himself to three full fingers of meditation, together with a little
seltzer, he smiled faintly, and told himself that there was no use in
debating the point--a man with brains is predestined to make progress.
But he couldn't help reflecting that now, more than ever, if any echo
of his New York escapades, or any rumour of his guarded habits got to
Mirabelle's ears--or, for that matter, to anybody's ears at all--his
dreams would float away in vapour. Perhaps it would be wise to
explain to Mirabelle that he had once been a sinner. She would
probably forgive him, and appreciate him all the more. Women do.... It
was curious that she had mentioned him as a possible Mayor. It had
been his dearest ambition. He wondered if, with his present
reputation, and then with the League behind him, there were a ghost of
a chance....

CHAPTER VII

There was probably no power on the fa