course. She isn't the only
landlord."

"But she didn't _see_ those people." "She's human, I guess--didn't want
to see disturbing things."

"I would have torn down those cottages with my own hands!" burst forth
Genevieve.

E. Eliot stared. "No one likes her income cut down, you know," she
palliated.

"Income! What is that to human decencies?" cried the newly awakened
apostle.

"Your husband doesn't entirely agree with you in some of these matters,
I suppose."

"Oh, yes he does, in his heart! But there's something about politics
that won't let you come right out and say what you think."

"Not after you've come right out once and said the wrong thing," laughed
E. Eliot. "I'm afraid you will have to use your indirect influence on
him, Mrs. Remington."

Genevieve threw her cards on the table.

"Miss Eliot, I am just beginning to see how much there is for women to
do in the world. I want to do something big--the sort of thing you
and Betty Sheridan are doing--to rouse women. What can I do?" E. Eliot
scrutinized the ardent young face with amiable amusement.

"You can't very well help us just now without hurting your husband's
chances and embarrassing him in the bargain. You see, we're trying to
embarrass him. We want him to kick over the traces and tell what he's
going to do as district attorney of this town."

"But can't I do something that won't interfere with George? Couldn't I
investigate the factories, or organize the working girls?"

"My child, have you ever organized anything?" exclaimed E. Eliot.

"No."

"Well, don't begin on the noble working girl. She doesn't organize
easily. Wait until the election is over. Then you come in on our schemes
and we'll teach you how to do things. But don't butt in now, I beg of
you. Misguided, well-meaning enthusiasts like you can do more harm to
our cause than all the anti-suffragists in this world!"

With her genial, disarming smile, E. Eliot rose and departed. She
chuckled all the way back to her rooms over the idea of Remington's
bride wanting to take the field with the enemies of her wedded lord.

"Women, women! God bless us, but we're funny!" mused E. Eliot.

Genevieve liked her caller immensely, and she thought over her advice,
but she determined to let it make no difference in her plans.

She saw her work cut out for her. She would not flinch!

She would do her bit in the great cause of women--no, of humanity. The
flame of her purpose burned steadily an