may take thought."

"Oh, is that all? Very well then; we'll think. I, myself, will think.
First, I'll have a talk with the sodden amorist. I'll grill him. I'll find
the weak spot in his armor. There must be something we can put over on
him."

"By fair means or foul," insisted Uncle Martin as they paused at the
parting of their ways. "Low-down, underhanded work--do you get what I
mean?"

"I do, I do!" declared young Mr. Evans and broke once more into the buoyant
stride of an earlier moment. This buoyance was interrupted but once, and
briefly, ere he gained the haven of his office.

As he stepped quite too buoyantly into Fountain Square, he was all but run
down by the new six-cylinder roadster of Mrs. Harvey Herrington, driven
by the enthusiastic owner. He regained the curb in time, with a ready and
heartfelt utterance nicely befitting the emergency.

The president of the Whitewater Women's Club, the Municipal League and the
Suffrage Society, brought her toy to a stop fifteen feet beyond her too
agile quarry, with a fine disregard for brakes and tire surfaces. She
beckoned eagerly to him she might have slain. She was a large woman with an
air of graceful but resolute authority; a woman good to look upon, attired
with all deference to the modes of the moment, and exhaling an agreeable
sense of good-will to all.

"Be careful always to look before you start across and you'll never have to
say such things," was her greeting to Mr. Evans, as he halted beside this