tely. A new development in Chapter politics was
occupying Mrs. Dott's mind, a development so wonderful and so glorious
in its promise that that lady could think or speak of little else.
Mrs. Lake's term as president of Scarford Chapter was nearing its end.
Annette Black, the vice-president, would have been, in the regular
course of events, Mrs. Lake's successor to the high office. But Mrs.
Lake and Annette, bosom friends for years, had had a falling out. At
first merely a disagreement, it had been aggravated and developed into
a bitter quarrel. The two ladies did not speak to each other. Annette
announced her candidacy in meeting, and the very next day Mrs. Lake came
to Serena with an amazing proposition.

The proposition was this: Mrs. Lake, it seemed, wished to become
secretary of the National Legion. In order to do this--or to become even
a prominent candidate--it was necessary for her to have the support of
the officers of her own Chapter. If Mrs. Black was elected president she
most decidedly would not have this support.

"That woman is a cat," she declared, "a spiteful underhanded cat. After
all I have done for her! Why, she never would have been vice-president
if it had not been for me! And just because she heard that I said
something--something about her that was perfectly true, even if I did
not say it--she broke out in committee and said things to me that--that
I never shall forget, never! She shan't be president. I have as many
friends as she has and I'll see to that. Now, my dear Mrs. Dott, I am
counting on you--and your daughter, of course--as among those friends.
We must select some woman for the presidency who will command the
respect and get the votes of all disinterested members. Miss Canby wants
the office, but she is too closely identified with me to be perfectly
safe. But our party--I and my friends, I mean--have been considering
the matter and we have decided that a dark horse--that is what the
politicians call it--a dark horse is bound to win. We must get the right
kind of dark horse. And we think we have it--him--her, I mean. YOU shall
be our candidate. YOU shall be president of Scarford Chapter."

Serena gasped.

"Me?" she cried, forgetful, for once, of her carefully nurtured
correctness of speech. "Me? President?"

"Yes, you. You are liked and respected by every member. You are known to
be rich--I mean cultured and progressive and broad-minded. We can elect
you and we will. Isn't it splendi