And what shall we say about the abominable laws made by men everyone of
them, that legalize the sale of drink?"

"Well, a woman is a woman, Jean, and the polls is not a fit place for a
woman," and the judge set his lips very firmly.

"That is the assertion you made at the outset, father. It is no
argument, and much as I respect you, I can hardly accept it as final.
You know, father, that if polling places are not fit for decent women,
neither are they fit for decent men, and the sooner decent people get
around and clean them up, the better it will be for the country. Come,
now, if you have a sound, logical reason why women should not vote,
bring it on."

"Well," said the judge, "even admitting that the advent of women in
politics might have a cleansing effect, women do not want the ballot."

"What women?" demanded Jean.

"The majority of women."

"How do you know they do not?"

"It is to be supposed that if they were clamoring to any great extent
for it we would hear of it through the papers."

"What papers? Papers that oppose it to the bitter end? I can show you
papers by the dozen and the score that would enlighten you along this
line. Women do not ask, but rather they demand, the ballot. But this is
begging the question. If it is right for women to have the ballot, it is
right, and if it is wrong, it is wrong--that is all there is to it. Now,
father, tell me the reasons."

"Why, Jean, have not I given you reasons and have you not overruled
them, every one?" was the almost testy answer. "A woman is a woman, and
God never intended her to vote."

Jean laughed merrily.

"What are you laughing at?" demanded her father.

"Why, at you; you are back just where you started. Women must not vote
because they are women. If you have nothing better to offer there is no
use of going over the grounds again. This makes me think of the time I
studied circulating decimals."

The judge joined in Jean's laugh, and turned again to his papers, as if
glad of a diversion.

After Judge Thorn had picked up and rearranged his papers he looked
toward Jean, who had suddenly grown quiet. In her face he saw something
that was new to him and that in some way sent a little jealous pang to
his heart. Her face was a dream study. A soft, far-away expression
rested over it, and her father knew that she was somewhere, away from
her surroundings, but he did not interrupt her. Presently she spoke:

"I saw a man to-day."

"I supposed tha