"Sometimes, Major, you are completely horrid," answered Phoebe with both
a smile and a spark in her eyes, "but I do care--that is, I'm interested,
and--"

"It seems to me," the major filled in the pause, "that you are a trifle
short on a woman's long suit--patience. Now in the case of David Kildare,
you don't want to give him one moment of tortoise speed but must keep him
pacing with the hare entirely. Remember the result of that race?"

"But I want him to win--he must! I think--"

"Did you hear that speech he made to the motley and their friends last
Monday night? That was as fine an interpretation of the ethics involved
in the enforcement of law as I have ever heard or read--delivered to
simple minds unversed in the science ethical. He landed hot shot into the
very stronghold of the enemy and his audience saw his points. I find the
mind of David Kildare rather well provisioned with the diverse ammunition
needed in political warfare. The whisky ring is making a stand and
fighting the inches of retreat. I believe it to be retreat!"

"But can it be, Major? Andrew says that money is pouring into the city,
even from other states. They intend to buy the election, come what will.
How can a gentleman fight such a thing with 'not a dollar spent'
announcement?"

"Phoebe," said the major with the quick illumination of one of his
challenging smiles, "you can generally depend on the Almighty to back the
right man when he's fighting the right fight. Suppose you put up a little
faith on the event--be something of a sporting character and back David
to win. Backing thoughts help in the winnings they tell us these days."