When she came in the phone was ringing, and her mother, with her hands
in the pie-crust, said: "Pearlie, dear, run in to the phone--that's
twice it's rung since you were out, and sure I couldn't go--and me
this way."

Pearl took the receiver down and found a conversation in progress. She
had no thought of listening in--for at once she surmised it might be
a message regarding the cattle going to one of the other houses. The
first sentence, however, held her in its grip, and all thought of what
she was doing was driven from her mind.

"They are going to offer the doctor the nomination tomorrow--he'll
make the best run of any one in these parts."

It was a man's voice, far away and indistinct.

"That will please Miss Morrison--she always wanted to get into
politics;" it was a woman who replied--"but I'm not so sure she has
any chance, the doctor is a pretty cautious chap. I often think he has
a girl somewhere--he goes to Hampton pretty often."

"He's not worried over women, believe me," the man's voice cut in. "I
think he likes that young Watson girl as well as any one, and she has
them all skinned for looks--and brains too, I guess."

The woman's voice came perceptibly nearer, and seemed to almost hiss
in her ear--unconsciously she felt the antagonism. "That's absurd,"
she said, with sudden animation; "why, these people are nobody,
the mother used to wash for me a few years ago. They are the very