pocket. He spoke of the boy as his own son."

"Good for old Mike!" laughed David. "It's not every boy who can boast an
intimate friendship with his corner grocer from childhood up. It means a
certain kind of---self-denial in the matter of apples and other
temptations. I used to go to the point of an occasional errand for him.
Those were the days, Phoebe, when you sat on the front steps and played
hollyhock dolls. Wish I'd kidnapped you then--when I could!"

"It would have saved us both lots of time--and trouble," answered Phoebe
daringly from the protection of the major's presence.

"David, sir," said the major who had been busy settling himself in his
chair and lighting his pipe during this exchange of pleasantries between
David and Phoebe, to the like of which he was thoroughly accustomed,
"this is going to be a fight to the ditches. I believe the whisky
ring that controls this city to be the worst machine south of Mason and
Dixon's. State-wide prohibition voted six months ago and every saloon in
the town going full tilt night and day! They own the city council, the
board of public works and the mayor, but none of that compares in
seriousness to the debauching of our criminal courts. The grand jury is
helpless if the judge dismisses every true bill they return--and Taylor
does it every time if it is a whisky law indictment or pertaining
thereto, and most of the bills are at least distantly pertaining. So
there you have us bound and helpless--a disgrace to the nation, sir, and
a reproach to good government!"

"Yes, Major, they've got us tied up some--but they forgot to gag us,"
answered David with a smile. "Your editorial in the _Gray Picket_,
calling on me to run for criminal court judge, has been copied in every