Her smile disclaimed exceptional credit.

"I 'm not a bit impersonal, I assure you. I can't abide Judge Swigart,
or his political lieutenant, Anthony Cobbens, a turkey gobbler and a
wretched little weasel, even though we are the best of friends."

"I see," he said, greatly diverted by her admission. Her eyes fell
beneath his too discriminating gaze, but she raised them again with the
impersonal calmness of an experienced woman.

"Besides, as I said before, Mr. Emmet is a _protégé_ of mine. I have
even loaned him books, and am quite bent upon seeing his education
result in making him mayor."

"Good work!" he cried. "I should like to lend a hand myself."

"Why don't you?" she asked.

"How can I?" he retorted. "Shall I go out and stump the town?"

"I 'll tell you," she said, bending forward and fixing him with a look
of discovery. "What Mr. Emmet needs more than anything else is a
friend out of his own class, some one like yourself, who could correct
his perspective a little. How shall I explain it? He seems in danger
of becoming a demagogue, and of resting his case on an appeal to
class-hatred."

Leigh had not supposed that his semi-jocular wish would be taken so
literally, but he soon discovered that she gave it its face value. She
went on with growing earnestness.