this prohibition-ducking poison."

"The trouble is, Jodrey," pursued the old man, gently, but undeterred,
"those honest folks who really do own the country show signs of waking up
and wanting to pay off the mortgage the politicians hold on it; and those
radicals who think they're going to own the country right soon, now,
believe they can turn the trick overnight by killing off the politicians
and browbeating the proprietors. It looks to me as if the politicians and
the real owners better hitch up together on a clean, business basis."

"Excellent! Excellent!" declared Banker Daunt, who had been shifting
uneasily from foot to foot, chafing his heavy neck against the beaver
collar, perceiving that his own projects were only marking time. "Hitch up
on a better business basis! It should be the slogan of the times. Eh,
Mister Mayor?"

"Right you are! crisply agreed Stewart, complimenting Daunt with a cheery
smile that promised excellent understanding.

"And harmony among the progressive leaders of city and state! Eh, Mister
Mayor? What say, Governor North?" The metropolitan Mr. Daunt was not
disposed to allow his commercial proposition to be run away with by a
stampeding political team.

"That's what I'm asking for--the co-operation that will fetch harmony,"
admitted the Governor, grudgingly. "But--"

However, when His Excellency turned to the mayor with the plain intent of
getting down to a working understanding, Mr. Daunt broke up what
threatened to be an embarrassing clinch. As if carried away by enthusiasm