eets are clean, for the time being, and when we look at
them we think we have made a clean sweep in our manners and morals. But
how long do you think it will be before Tammany will be in the saddle
again?"

"Oh, never in the world!" said the optimistic head of the table.

"I wish I had your faith; or I should if I didn't feel that it is one
of the things that help to establish Tammanys with us. You will see
our Tammany in power after the next election." Kenby laughed in a
large-hearted incredulity; and his laugh was like fuel to the other's
flame. "New York is politically a mediaeval Italian republic, and it's
morally a frontier mining-town. Socially it's--" He stopped as if he
could not say what.

"I think it's a place where you have a very nice time, papa," said his
daughter, and Burnamy smiled with her; not because he knew anything
about it.

Her father went on as if he had not heard her. "It's as vulgar and crude
as money can make it. Nothing counts but money, and as soon as there's
enough, it counts for everything. In less than a year you'll have
Tammany in power; it won't be more than a year till you'll have it in
society."

"Oh no! Oh no!" came from Kenby. He did not care much for society, but
he vaguely respected it as the stronghold of the proprieties and the
amenities.

"Isn't society a good place for Tammany to be in?" asked March in the
pause Triscoe let follow upon Kenby's laugh.

"There's no reason why it shouldn't be. Society is as bad as all the
rest of it. And what New York is, politically, morally, and socially,
the whole country wishes to be and tries to be."

There was that measure of truth in the words which silences; no one
could find just the terms of refutation.

"Well," said Kenby at last, "it's a good thing there are so many lines
to Europe. We've still got the right to emigrate."

"Yes, but even there we don't escape the abuse of our infamous
newspapers for exercising a man's right to live where he chooses. And
there is no country in Europe--except Turkey, or Spain--that isn't a
better home for an honest man than the United States."

The Ohioan had once before cleared his throat as if he were going to
speak. Now, he leaned far enough forward to catch Triscoe's eye, and
said, slowly and distinctly: "I don't know just what reason you have
to feel as you do about the country. I feel differently about it
myself--perhaps because I fought for it."

At first, the others were glad of t