Mrs. Buchanan. Phoebe, to her own surprise, found that she intensely
desired another arrangement that involved David and his small electric,
but she received the blow with astonishing meekness and delighted
Caroline with her enthusiastic acquiescence in the plans for the evening.

And so through the busy afternoon while David Kildare met committees,
sent in reports and talked over plans, he also managed to sandwich in the
settling of numerous little details that went to make good the night's
sport. And it was all done in apparent high spirits but with an indignant
pain in his usually glad heart.

Meanwhile Caroline Darrah, in a whirl of domestic excitement incident to
the preparing of a hamper for the midnight lunch out on the ridge, which
she had entreated Mrs. Matilda to leave entirely to her newly-acquired
housewifery, stepped into the middle of the pool political and never knew
it, in the innocence of her old-fashioned woman's heart.

"Miss Ca'line," ventured Jeff as he assisted her in packing the huge
hamper that occupied the center of the dining-room table, "is Mister Dave
sure 'pinted to be jedge of the criminal court--he ain't a-joking is he?"

"Why, no, indeed, Jeff," answered Caroline Darrah as she rolled
sandwiches in oiled paper before putting them into a box. "What made you
think that?"

"Well, it's a kinder poor white folksy job fer him, fooling with
crap-shooting niggers and whisky soaks, but if he wants it he's got ter
have it, hear me! And Miss Ca'line, some of us colored set has made up
our minds that it's time fer us ter git out and dust ter help him. You
see this here is a independent race and it's who gits the votes, no