"

* * * * *

At ten minutes past four, the anxious Antis in the Remington living-room
heard the candidate for district attorney running down the stairs, and
even Mrs. Brewster-Smith was hushed. The candidate stopped, however,
on the landing. They heard him lift the telephone receiver. He called a
number. Then----

"_Sentinel_ office?... Mr. Ledbetter, please.... Hello, Ledbetter!
Remington speaking. I have that statement ready. Will you send a man
around?... Yes, right away. And I wish you'd put it on the wires.
Display it just as prominently as you can, won't you?... Thanks. That's
fine! Good-by."

He ran back upstairs.

But shortly he appeared, wearing the distrait, exalted expression of the
genius who has just passed through the creative act. He looked very tall
and strong as he stood before the mantel, receiving the congratulations
of Mrs. Brewster-Smith and the timid admiration of Cousin Emelene. His
few words were well chosen and were uttered with dignity.

"And now, dear Mr. Remington, I'm sure I don't need to ask you if you
are taking the right stand on suffrage." This from Mrs. Brewster-Smith.

The candidate smiled tolerantly.

"If unequivocal opposition is 'right'----"

"Oh, you dear man! I was sure we could count on you. Isn't it splendid,
Genevieve!"

The reporters came.

* * * * *

It was a busy evening for the young couple. There were relatives for
dinner. Other relatives and an old friend or two came later. Throughout,
George wore that quietly exalted expression, and carried himself with
the new dignity.

To the adoring Genevieve his chin had never appeared so long and strong,
his thought had never seemed so elevated, his quiet self-respect had
never been so commanding. He was no longer merely her George, he was now
a public figure. Soon he would be district attorney; then, very likely,
Governor; then--well, Senator; and finally--it was possible--some one
had to be--President of the United States. He had begun, this day, by
making a great decision, by stepping boldly out on principle, on moral
principle, and announcing himself a defender of the home, of the right.

At midnight, the last guest departed. George and Genevieve stepped out
into the summer moonlight and strolled arm in arm down the walk.

Waddling up the street appeared a very fat boy.

"Why, Pudge," cried Genevieve, "what on earth are you doing out at this
time