ou that you are wrong, I will go out and help the women
to show the people that you are wrong. Pearl says if the Premier is
too old to change his mind we will do the next best thing."

"And what is that?"

"Change the Premier," Peter replied, steadily.

The old man laughed, with uproarious mirth.

"Peter, you're funny, all right; you're rich; I always did enjoy the
prattle of children, but I can't fool away any more time on you--so
run along and sell your papers."

Peter went through the blue velvet hangings, past the worthy henchman,
who sat dozing in his chair, and made his way to the front door. The
mural decorations in the corridor caught his eye--the covered wagon,
drawn by oxen plodding patiently into the sunset--the incoming
settlers of the pioneer days.

"I wonder if the women did not do their full share of that," he
thought. "They worked, suffered, hoped, endured--and made the country
what it is. I wonder how any man has the nerve to deny them a voice in
their own affairs."

While Peter was taking his departure, and before he had reached the
front gate, one of the many bells which flanked the Premier's table
was wildly rung.

"Send Banks to me," he said crisply, to the lackey who appeared.

The genial mood had gone; his brows were clamped low over his eyes. He
had chewed the end off his cigar.

"Every time the women raise ructions it sets me thinking of her. I
wonder what became of her," he murmured. "The ground seems to have
swallowed her. She might have known I did not mean it; but women don't
reason--they just feel."

The news of P.J. Neelands' resignation from the Young Men's Political
Club made a ripple of excitement in Government circles, and brought
forth diverse comments.

"There's a girl in it, I hear," said one of the loungers at the Maple
Leaf Club; "some pretty little suffragette has won over our Peter."

"He does not deny it," said another, "he'll tell you the whole
story--and believe me, Peter is an enthusiastic supporter of the
women's cause now. I see in this morning's paper he made a speech for
them last night called 'The Chivalry of the Law.' Peter has the blood
of the martyrs in him for sure--for he was in a straight line for the
nomination here in 'Centre.'"

"Peter Neelands makes me tired," said a third gloomily. "Why does he
need to get all fussed up over the laws relating to women--they have
too much liberty now--they can swear away a man's character--that's
one thing I