e called by that expressive word which is not in the dictionary,
'a crank'," said Duncan ironically. "That is the reward of a reformer."

"John Bright and Wendell Phillips were both 'cranks' in their day," was
the reply, "but I would not object to their reputation. By the way, here
comes a 'crank' whom I almost love," she added, as a stout, kindly
faced, elderly man, whose features wore the sweet expression of earnest
and well guided intelligence, approached the box.

"Who is he?" asked Duncan, following her eyes.

"Dr. Maccanfrae, physician and philanthropist, missionary and moralist,
and the dearest man in the world, besides," she replied. "He does more
good in a day than twenty Poor Boards do in a week, and has more genuine
Christian charity in his soul than a score of average parsons, although
he is an evolutionist and a pantheist combined."

"A most flattering description," said Duncan. "I hope he deserves such
adulation."

"He certainly merits it all," added Wainwright.

Dr. Maccanfrae entered the box and Walter Sedger improved the
opportunity to slip away and visit some friends. The Doctor spoke to
Mrs. Sanderson, then moved toward the corner occupied by Florence
Moreland, while Duncan dropped quietly into the seat left vacant by Mr.
Sedger.

"What can bring so industrious a man as Dr. Maccanfrae to the opera?"
said Florence as the Doctor took the seat beside her.

"The opera itself, Miss Florence. I am devoted to music and never lose
an opportunity of hearing it well rendered. Isn't Tamagno doing grandly
to-night?"

Her reply was interrupted by the appearance of a tall, plainly dressed
woman, who, pencil and paper in hand, entered the box door. Her face was
refined, though careworn, and bore the mark of better days. She
hesitated for a moment, as though realizing fully her intrusive calling,
then advanced toward Duncan. "May I ask you, sir, to give the names of
your party for the _Morning Stentor_?" she finally said.

"What does she mean?" said Duncan, turning to Mrs. Sanderson for an
explanation.

"It is one of the peculiarities of Chicago life," she replied. "It is
for to-morrow's society column."

"And do you give them the information?" he asked.

"O, yes, it is better to have it right, as they publish it anyway, right
or wrong," she replied, and then she told the reporter the names.

"Might I trouble you to describe your dress?" was the next question
asked. "I am sorry to be so intrusive, bu