ter-Smith and Miss Emelene Brand.

Mrs. Gallup's boarding-house was finishing its noonday meal. Boiled
odors lay upon a parlor that was otherwise redolent of the more opulent
days of the Gallups. A not too ostentatious clatter of dishes came
through the closed folding-doors.

Almost immediately Mrs. Alys Brewster-Smith, her favorite Concentrated
Breath of the Lily always in advance, rustled into the darkened parlor,
her stride hitting vigorously into her black taffeta skirts. Even as she
shook hands with Mr. Evans, she jerked the window shade to its height,
so that her smoothness and coloring shone out above her weeds.

In the shadow of her and at her life job of bringing up the rear, with
a large Maltese cat padding beside her, entered Miss Brand on rubber
heels. She was the color of long twilight.

Mr. Evans rose to his six-feet-in-his-stockings and extended them each a
hand, Miss Emelene drawing the left.

Mrs. Smith threw up a dainty gesture, black lace ruffles falling back
from arms all the whiter because of them.

"Well, Penny Evans!"

"None other, Mrs. Smith, than the villain himself."

"Be seated, Penfield."

"Thanks, Miss Emelene."

They drew up in a triangle beside the window overlooking the cast-iron
deer. The cat sprang up, curling in the crotch of Miss Emelene's arm.

"Nice ittie kittie, say how-do to big Penny-field-Evans. Say how-do to
big man. Say how-do, muvver's ittie kittie." Miss Emelene extended
the somewhat reluctant Maltese paw, five hook-shaped claws slightly in
evidence.

"Say how-do to Hanna, Penfield. Hanna, say how-do to big man." "How-do,
Hanna," said Mr. Evans, reddening slightly beneath his tan. Then hitched
his chair closer.

"To what," he began, flashing his white smile from one to the other of
them, and with a strong veer to the facetious, "are we indebted for the
honor of this visit? Are those the unspoken words, ladies?"

"Nothing wrong at home, Penfield? Nobody ailing or--"

"No, no, Miss Emelene, never better. As a matter of fact, it's a piece
of political business that has prompted me to--"

At that Mrs. Smith jangled her bracelets, leaning forward on her knees.

"If it's got anything to do with your partner and my cousin George
Remington having the courage to go in for the district attorneyship
without the support of the vote-hunting, vote-eating women of this town,
I'm here to tell you that I'm with him heart and soul. He can have my
support and--"

"Mine t