woman, you
know--I--I--well, George, it's my home she's going to."

"You don't mean----"

"Yes, George, that's just what I mean. Though, of course, I'm taking
her back now to Mrs. Gallup's boarding-house until--until--good-night,
George; good-night, Genevieve." The little man went staggering down the
walk with his burden of wraps; and after a minute there came the sound
of his six-cylinder roadster buzzing away into the darkness.

"I didn't tell 'em they had to go tonight," said George doggedly. "But
I did remark that even if every woman had a right to a home, every
woman didn't have the right to make my home her home. Anyhow," his
tone becoming softer, "I've at last got a home of my own. Our own," he
corrected.

He took her in his arms. "And, sweetheart--it's a better home than when
we first came to it, for now I've got more sense. Now it is a home in
which each of us has the right to think and be what we please."

* * * * *

At just about this same hour just about this same scene was being
enacted upon another front porch in Whitewater--there being the slight
difference that this second porch was not softly illuminated by any
frosted globule of incandescence. Up the three steps leading to this
second porch Mr. Penfield Evans had that moment escorted Miss Elizabeth
Sheridan.

"Good-night, Penny," she said.

He caught her by her two shoulders.

"See here, Betty--the last twenty-four hours have been mighty busy
hours--too busy even to talk about ourselves. But now--see here, you're
not going to get away with any rough work like that. Come across, now.
Will you?"

"Will I what?"

"Say, how long do you think you're a paid-up subscriber to this little
daily speech of mine?... Well, if I've got to hand you another copy,
here goes. You promised me, on your word of honor, if George swung
around for suffrage, you'd swing around for me. Well, George has come
around. Not that I had much to do with it--but he surely did come
around! Now, the point is, Miss Betty Sheridan, are you a woman of your
promise--are you going to marry me?"

"Well, if you try to put it that way, demanding your pound of flesh----"
"One hundred and twenty pounds," corrected Penny.

"I'll say that, of course, I don't love you, but I guess a promise is a
promise--and--and--" And suddenly a pair of strong young arms were flung
about the neck of Mr. Penfield Evans. "Oh, I'm so happy, Penny dear!"

"Betty!"

Aft