her unpolled vote!' If you women want
prohibition, it is in your power to sway man's vote to prohibition.
If you women want the moon, let man cast your proxy vote for it! In my
mind, that is the true chivalry. To quote again, 'Woman is man's
rarest heritage, his beautiful responsibility, and at all times his
co-operation, support and protection are due her. His support and
protection.'"

Miss Emelene closed her eyes. The red had spread in her cheeks and she
laid her head back against the chair, rocking softly and stroking the
thick-napped cat.

"The flower of womanhood," she repeated. "'His support and his
protection.' If ever a man deserved high office because of high
principles, it's my cousin George Remington! My cousin Genevieve
Livingston Remington is the luckiest girl in the world, and not one of
us Brands but what is willing to admit it. My two nephews, too, if their
Aunt Emelene has anything to say, and I think she has--"

"Why, there isn't a stone in the world I wouldn't turn to see that boy
in office," Mrs. Smith interrupted.

At that Mr. Evans rose.

"You mean that, Mrs. Smith?"

Miss Emelene rose with him, the cat pouring from her lap.

"Of course she means it, Penfield. What self-respecting woman wouldn't!"

Mr. Evans sat down again suddenly, Miss Emelene with him, and leaning
violently forward, thrust his eager, sun-tanned face between the two
women.

"Well, then, ladies, here's your chance to prove it! That's what brings
me today. As two of the self-respecting, idealistic and womanly women of
this community, I have come to urge you both to--"

"Oh, Mr. Evans!"

"Penfield, you are the flatterer!"

"To induce two such representative women as yourselves to help my
partner to the election he so well deserves."

"Us?" "It is in your power, ladies, to demonstrate to Whitewater that
George Remington's chivalry is not only on paper, but in his soul."

"But--how?"

"By throwing yourselves upon his generosity and hospitality, at least
during the campaign. You have it in your power, ladies, to strengthen
the only uncertain plank upon which George Remington stands today."

A clock ticked roundly into a silence tinged with eloquence. The Maltese
leaped back into Miss Emelene's lap, purring there.

"You mean, Penfield, for us to go visit George--er--er--"

"Just that! Bag and baggage. As two relatives and two unattached women,
it is your privilege, nay, your right."

"But--"

"He hasn't come