"Phoebe," said David Kildare as he seated himself on the corner of the

table just across from where Phoebe sat in Major Buchanan's chair writing

up her one o'clock notes, "what is there about me that makes people think

they must make me judge of the criminal court of this county? Do I look

job-hungry so as to notice it?"

"No," answered Phoebe as she folded her last sheet and laid down her

pencil, "that is one thing no one can accuse you of, David. But your work

down there has brought its results. They need you and are calling to you

rather decisively I think. Any more delegations to-day?"

"Several. Susie Carrie Snow came with more Civic Improvements, rather

short as to skirts and skimpy as to hats. They have fully decided that I

am going to feed Mayor Potts out of my hand as Taylor does, and they want

my influence to put up two more drinking fountains and three brass plates

to mark the homes of the founders of the city, in return for their

precious support. I promised; and they fell on my neck. That is, if _you_

don't mind?" David edged a tentative inch or two nearer Phoebe who had

rested her elbows on the table and her head on her hands as she looked up

at him.

"I don't," she answered with a cruel smile. Then she asked, with an

unconcerned glance over the top of his head, "Did you hear from the

United Charities?"

"Well, yes, some," returned David with an open countenance, no suspicion

of a trap in even the flicker of an eyelash. "They sent Mrs. Cherry.

Blooming more every day isn't she, don't you think? She didn't fall on my

neck worth a cent though I had braced myself for the shock. She managed

to convey the fact that the whole organization is for me just the same.

It's some pumpkins to be a candidate. I'm for all there is in it--if at

all."

"You aren't hesitating, David?" asked Phoebe as she rose and stood

straight and tall beside him, her eyes on a level with his as he sat on

the table. "Ah, David, you can if you will--will you? I know what

it means to you," and Phoebe laid one hand on his shoulder as she looked

him straight in the eyes, "for it will be work, _work_ and fight like mad

to put out the fire. You will have to fight honest--and they won't.

But, David"--a little catch in her voice betrayed her as she entreated.

"Yes, dear," answered David as he laid his hand over the one on his

shoulder and pressed it closer, "I sent in the announcement of my

candidacy to the afternoon papers just as I came around here to see

the major--and you. The fight is on and it is going to be harder than you

realize, for there is so little time. Are you for me, girl?"




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