him at his own
game. So presently he had Roberta to himself, with every advantage of
time and place and summer beauty all about.

Louis Gray, looking down the lawn from the rear porch, upon whose steps
he sat with Rosamond and Stephen, descried the tall figure strolling by
their sister's side along a stretch of closely shaven turf between rows
of slim young birches.

"Forbes is persistent, eh?" he observed. "Think he has a fighting
chance?"

"Oh, I hope not!" cried Rosamond impulsively.

Stephen's grave eyes followed the others, to dwell upon the distant
pair. "Forbes stands to win a big place among men," was his comment.

"Oh, really big?" Rosamond's tender eyes came to meet her husband's.
"Stephen, do you think he is quite--scrupulous?--wholly honourable?"

"I have no reason to think otherwise, Rosy."

She shook her head. "Somehow I--could never quite trust him. He would
live strictly by the letter of the law--but the spirit--"

"Expect people to live by the spirit--these days, little girl?" inquired
Louis, with an affectionate glance at her.

She gazed straight back. "Yes. You do it--and so does Stephen--and
Father Gray--and Uncle Calvin."

The eyes of the brothers met above her fair head, and they smiled.

"That's high distinction, from you, dear," said her husband. "But you
must not do Westcott injustice. He has the reputation of being sharp as
a knife blade, and of outwitting men in fair contest in court and out of
it, but no shadow has ever touched his character."

Still she shook her head. "I can't help it. I don't want Rob to marry
him."

The young men laughed together, and Rosamond smiled with them.

"There you have it," said Louis. "There's no going behind those returns.
The county votes no, and the candidate is defeated. Let him console
himself with the vote from other counties--if he can."

The three were still upon the porch half an hour later, with others of
the family, when the two figures came again up the stretch of lawn
between the slim white birches, showing ghostlike now in the June
moonlight. They came in silence, as far as any sound of their voices
reached the porch, and they disappeared like two shades toward the front
of the house.

"He's not coming even to speak to us," whispered Rosamond to Stephen.
"That's very unlike him. Do you suppose--"

"It may be a case of the voice sticking in the throat," returned her
husband, under his breath. "I fancy he'll take it hard when Ro