ink any government of men are very
keen on letting the women vote--why should they be? But there's always
a way out. What will happen is this--if our fellows get in, they will
grant a plebiscite, men only voting of course, and it will go strong
against the women--but that will let us out."

The doctor's eyes snapped:--

"That's surely a coward's way out," he said, "and why should any woman
have to ask for what is her right. Women, although they are not so
strong as men, do more than half the work, and bear children besides,
and yet men have been mean enough to snatch the power away from them
and keep it. Well, you have certainly been frank, Mr. Summersad, I
must thank you for that. I will be equally frank. I do not see
that there is anything to choose between the two parties. If your
presentation of the case is correct, the country is in a bad way, and
the political life is a re-incarnation of that fine old game of 'pussy
wants a corner!' I never did see much in it, so I will decline
the nomination. I am sorry, Mr. Gilchrist," he said to the local
President. His words had a ring of finality.

When the committee were leaving they met Miss Keith, of Hampton, on
the street. Miss Keith was worth looking at, with her white fox furs,
high-heeled shoes and long black ear-rings. Miss Keith carried a muff
as big as a sheaf of wheat, and a sparkling bead-bag dangled from her
wrist. Miss Keith's complexion left nothing to be desired. When she
passed the committee there came to them the odor of wood violets. The
committee were sufficiently interested to break into a group on the
corner and so be able to turn around and watch her, without appearing
to stop for that purpose.

She went into the doctor's office.

"By gum," said the President, looking at the door through which she
had disappeared, "don't these women beat all? They go where they
like--they do as they like--they wear what they like--they don't care
what men think, any more. They're bold--that's what they are! and I
don't know as I believe in lettin' them vote--By Gosh!"

The organizer raised his hand in warning, and spoke sternly.

"Hold your tongue," he said, "they're a long way from votin'. Believe
what you like--no one cares what you believe--but sit tight on it! I
talked too much just now. Let's learn our lesson."

Bertie, whose other name was now lost in oblivion, and who was known
as "Bertie Crocks" for purposes of identification, standing at the
corner of