matter--that laugh, an old woman's cackle, he
being the matter. He did not like it. He stood waiting for an
explanation, seeing that she occupied the only chair. He felt that it
would take a good deal to explain how and why she thought she could
induce him to move the office of the _Signal_ into the kitchen of that
female rat trap on the avenue.

She came immediately to the point, a thing you never do in business
unless you are sure you have the drop on the other fellow.

"The Co-Citizens' Foundation Fund holds a mortgage on the _Signal_, Mr.
Carter?" She put this affirmative in the form of a question.

"Er--I believe there was a small mortgage held by the Mosely Estate," he
admitted.

"And with the four years' interest due, I believe it covers the value of
the property now, doesn't it?" She had taken out another pair of
spectacles and adjusted them upon her upturned nose.

"About," he added, dazed.

"We shall be glad to retain your services. That is what I am here for
this afternoon, to make arrangements with you, if possible."

Carter raised his hand, scratched his chin through his beard, squinted
one eye, and took sight along the barrel of his personal interest at
Susan.

"We are prepared to bear all the expense of publication and offer you a
salary of one hundred dollars a month to conduct the paper; but of
course we should expect to control the policy of it absolutely. We
purpose to make it the organ of the Woman's Suffrage Movement here. I
should myself dictate most of the editorials."

"You should, Madam?" he exclaimed.

"Yes."

"And where would I come in?"

"Oh, we should want you to do the work, get up advertisements, write
special articles along such educational lines for the movement as we
should suggest. You would 'come in' a great deal, Mr. Carter. You would
be the busiest man in Jordantown."

"But, good Lord--beg pardon! You want me to become a woman suffragist,
Madam--and I'm a man!"

"We should certainly require you to work for it. Suffrage for women is
not a matter of sex. It's a question of common justice."

"At what salary did you say?" he asked after a thoughtful pause.

"One hundred dollars a month, and we pay the expense of publication,"
she answered.

Carter had never cleared a dollar as editor of the _Signal_. He could
not even have supported himself if he had paid the interest on his
mortgage. Still he hesitated. He was not sure that this offer did not
mean the sale of hi