black--plainly a
widow--hardly more than thirty-two or thirty-three, fresh of skin,
rather prominent as to eyeballs, yet, everything considered, a handsome
woman. This was Alys Brewster-Smith. The other, shorter, slighter,
several years older, a faded, smiling, tremulously hopeful spinster, was
Genevieve's own cousin, Emelene Brand.

"It's so nice of you to come--" Genevieve began timidly, only to be
swept aside by the superior aggressiveness and the stronger voice of
Mrs. Brewster-Smith.

"My _dear_! Isn't it perfectly delightful to see you actually mistress
of this wonderful old home. And"--her slightly prominent eyes swiftly
took in furniture, pictures, rugs, flowers,--"how wonderfully you
have managed to give the old place your own tone!" "Nothing has been
changed," murmured Genevieve, a thought bewildered.

"Nothing, my dear, but yourself! I am _so_ looking forward to a good
talk with you. Emelene and I were speaking of that only this noon. And
I can't tell you how sorry I am that our first call has to be on a
miserable political matter. Tell me, dear, is that wonderful husband of
yours at home?"

"Why--yes. But I am not to disturb him."

"Ah, shut away in his den?"

Genevieve nodded.

"It's a very important paper he has to write. It has to be done now,
before he is drawn into the whirl of campaign work."

"Of course! Of course! But I'm afraid the campaign is whirling already.
I will tell you what brought us, my dear. You know of course that
Mrs. Harvey Herrington has come out for suffrage--thrown in her whole
personal weight and, no doubt, her money. I can't understand it--with
her home, and her husband--going into the mire of politics. But that is
what she has done. And Grace Hatfield called up not ten minutes ago to
say that she has just led a delegation of ladies up to your husband's
office. Think of it--to his office! The first day!... Well, Emelene, it
is some consolation that they won't find him there."

"He isn't going to the office today," said Genevieve. "But what can they
want of him?"

"To get him to declare for suffrage, my dear."

"Oh--I'm sure he wouldn't do that!"

"Are you, my dear? Are you _sure_?"

"Well----"

"He has told you his views, of course?"

Genevieve knit her brows. "Why, yes--of course, we've talked about
things----"

"My dear, of course he is _against suffrage_."

"Oh yes, of course. I'm sure he is. Though, you see, I would no more
think of intruding in George