r
words recalled the conversation at the table, which he had by this time
forgotten.

"This is a good opportunity to carry out your promise to convert me to
your point of view," he answered, "and I am quite prepared to be
converted. Being a Mugwump, the mere name of a party holds no
superstitious sway over my imagination. Still, my support, like your
own, must be purely sentimental, for I have no vote in Warwick. I have
heard just enough to arouse my curiosity and interest. Who is this Mr.
Burke?"

"Emmet," she corrected. "Mr. Cardington would have his jest in
comparing him with Burke. You noticed, perhaps, that they were more or
less baiting me?"

"I suspected something like it."

"Mr. Emmet is a _protege_ of mine," she explained frankly, "who is
trying to break the power of the Republican ring that has ruled Warwick
since the war.

"I see," he nodded. "One of those struggles against municipal
corruption that are such a hopeful sign of the times. It seems strange
that in the management of our cities alone our form of government has
been a failure. But we have lighted upon a hobby of mine, and I must
n't begin to ride it."

"Then you will be interested in the situation," she returned.

It was presently evident that her own interest was not that of a
student of the science of government, though he was impressed by her
knowledge of local political conditions. The situation was indeed
typical: entrenched power on the one hand, and on the other a desire to
"turn the rascals out." The singularity lay in the fact that Miss
Wycliffe, in spite of the prejudice and influence of her father, was
siding against her own class. Leigh listened with growing interest and
wonder to her charges of snobbishness and corruption against the
Republican clique.

"You certainly love fair play," he remarked admiringly. "Such an
impersonal attitude is wont to be claimed by men as their own peculiar
possession."

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 _protege_ of mine. I have
even loan