rictly an outsider. Mary's father was a
Reformer. He ran the opposition paper to dear Mr. Evans. Mary was never
well dressed, partly accounted for by the fact that the angels had
visited the McSorley home so often. Therefore, for these reasons, Mary
sat on the back step, a rank outsider.

The czar, who knew nothing of these things, began to "goo" as soon as
he saw her. Mary reached out her arms. The czar stumbled into them and
Mary fell to kissing his bald head. She felt more at home with a baby
in her arms.

It was at this unfortunate moment that Mr. Ducker and Mr. Evans came
around to the rear of the house. Mr. Evans was beginning to think
rather more favourably of Mr. Ducker, as the prospective Conservative
member. He might do all right--there are plenty worse--he has no
brains--but that does not matter. What need has a man of brains when he
goes into politics? Brainy men make the trouble. The Grits made that
mistake once, elected a brainy man, and they have had no peace since.

Mr. Ducker had adroitly drawn the conversation to a general discussion
of children. He knew that Mr. Evans's weak point was his little son
Algernon.

"That's a clever looking little chap of yours, Evans," he had remarked
carelessly as they came up the street. (Mr. Ducker had never seen the
czar closely.) "My wife was just saying the other day that he has a
wonderful forehead for a little fellow."

"He has," the other man said smiling, not at all displeased. "It runs
clear down to his neck!"

"He can hardly help being clever if there's anything in heredity," Mr.
Ducker went on with infinite tact, feeling his rainbow dreams of
responding to toasts at Elk banquets drawing nearer and nearer.

Then the Evil Genius of the House of Ducker awoke from his slumber, sat
up and took notice! The house that the friend in Winnipeg had selected
for them fell into irreparable ruins! Poor Maudie's automobile vanished
at a touch. The rosy dreams of Cincinnatus, and of carrying the grand
old Conservative banner in the face of the foe turned to clay and ashes!

They turned the corner, and came upon Mary McSorley who sat on the back
step with the czar in her arms. Mary's head was hidden as she kissed
the czar's fat neck, and in the general babel of voices, within and
without, she did not hear them coming.

"Speaking about heredity," Mr. Ducker said suavely, speaking in a low
voice, and looking at whom he supposed to be the latest McSorley, "it
looks as