the westward, and that there were
difficulties. The senator's wife took his arm and explained her dilemma
at the table dispersal.

"It is parade day at the Fort, you know, and Patricia has set her heart
on going. I don't know how I came to be so absurdly thoughtless, but I
promised her before I remembered that this is the Kismet Club election
afternoon, and if I don't go, they'll make me president again in spite
of everything," she said in low tones as they were leaving the _cafe_.
"I simply _can't_ serve another year; and at the same time, I do so
dislike to disappoint Patricia. She is such a dear girl!" Mrs. Honoria
was strictly within the bounds of truth in claiming to have forgotten
the date of the Kismet election of officers; but it was equally true
that the club would re-elect her, present or absent, since she was its
founder and chief patroness.

Blount saw the pointing of all this with perfect clarity, and he had no
need to assure himself that it had every ear-mark of another expedient
to get him out of the way. But while he was with Mrs. Honoria and
listening to her persuasive little appeals it was much harder to
maintain the antagonistic attitude than it was when she figured--at a
distance--merely as his father's second wife and his mother's
supplanter. Foolish? Oh, yes; but at times when the star of impulse is
in the ascendant every man hath a fool in his sleeve.

"It _is_ too bad to disappoint her," he found himself saying, matching
the little lady's low tone. "If I wasn't so terribly busy--"

"I know; and just now, with the election so near, you must be busier
than ever. I suppose I shall have to explain to Patricia, and it hurts
me, when she is going home so soon."

"Going home?" echoed the victim.

"Yes; in a few days now. The professor has already overstayed his leave
of absence, so he says."

Blount clenched a figurative fist and shook it savagely at an unkind
fate. Nevertheless, he fell.

"If you can shift your responsibility to my shoulders, Mrs. Blount--" he
began, but she would not let him finish.

"Oh! that is _so_ good of you, Evan. Take the little car, and be sure to
ask the garage man to put in new batteries. The magneto isn't working
very well. And be here by half past one if you can. The parade is at
half past two, you know."

Under other conditions the railroad company's "social secretary," as
the society editors of the capital were still calling him, might have
had a joyous half