as near as possible like the dainty garments affected by the French
shop-clad Annette, who was Temple's special ally and admirer, when Mrs.
Cherry Lawrence, in full regalia, descended upon her. Tempie walled her
black eyes and departed with dignity for an extra cup.

The major was fast asleep, David Kildare in the processes of bath and
toilet, Phoebe at her desk down-town and Mrs. Matilda away on her
mission, and thus it happened that nobody was near to fend the blight
from the flower of their anxious cherishing.

"Yes, indeed, it is a time of anxiety," Mrs. Cherry agreed with Caroline
as she crushed the lemon in her tea. "I shall be glad when it is over. I
feel that we all are making the utmost sacrifices for this election
of David Kildare's, and he's such a boy that he probably will make a
perfectly impossible judge. He never takes anything seriously enough to
accomplish much. It's well for him that no one expects anything from
him."

"Oh, but I'm sure he's taking this seriously," exclaimed Caroline Darrah
with a little gleam of dismay in her eyes. "His race has been an
exceptional one whether he wins or not. The major says so and the
other day Mr. Sevier told me--" At the mention of Andrew Sevier's name
Mrs. Cherry glanced around and an ugly little gleam came into her eyes.

"Oh, of course Andrew Sevier is too loyal to admit any criticism of David
to a _stranger_," she said with a slight emphasis on the word and a cold
glance at Caroline Darrah.

"But he wasn't talking to a stranger, he was talking just to me," said
Caroline quickly, not even seeing the dart aimed.