alary too and make out your cheque for the full month.
It wouldn't be right for us to stand in your way--of course you may
not want to come back--but if you do just drop me a line. I suppose
you will want to go home before you go into the city. I can take you
over this afternoon in the car."

"Thank you, Mr. Cowan," Pearl said, "you are very kind. I'll be ready
at one o'clock. But tell me--how did you know I had an invitation to
the city? That was pretty clever of you."

Mr. Cowan was untwisting the lines from the plow handles preparatory
to making another round. He suddenly remembered to be discreet, and
winked one eye with indescribable slyness.

"A little bird whispered to me," he laughed.

At noon, when he told Mrs. Cowan about it, he said it was queer how
that answer of his seemed to hit the teacher. She went away laughing,
and he could hear her for fully a quarter of a mile kind of chuckling
to herself.

CHAPTER XXII

THE PLAY

"Sorry, sir," said the man in the box-office of the Grand, "but the
house has been sold out for two days now. The standing room has gone
too."

"Can you tell me what this is all about, that every one is so crazy to
see it?" the man at the wicket asked, with studied carelessness. He
was a thick-set man, with dark glasses, and wore a battered hat, and a
much bedraggled waterproof.

"The women here have got up a Parliament, and are showing tonight,"
said the ticket-seller. "They pretend that only women vote, and women
only sit in Parliament. The men will come, asking for the vote, and
they'll get turned down good and plenty, just like the old man turned
them down."

"Did the Premier turn them down?" asked the stranger. "I didn't hear
about it."

"Did he? I guess, yes--he ripped into them in his own sweet way. Did
you ever hear the old man rage? Boy! Well, the women have a girl
here who is going to do his speech. She's the woman Premier, you
understand, and she can talk just like him. She does everything except
chew the dead cigar. The fellows in behind say it's the richest thing
they ever heard. The old boy will have her shot at sunrise, for sure.

"He won't hear her," said the man in the waterproof, with sudden
energy. "He won't know anything about it."

"Sure he will. The old man is an old blunderbuss, but he's too good
a sport to stay away. They're decorating a box for him, and have his
name on it. He can't stay away."

"He can if he wants to," snapped the other