Jane, Sandwich Jane,
O-liver, white liver,
Jane, Jane, Jane.

O-liver was restless, his hands clenched at his sides. Atwood and Henry
were restless. Tommy was restless. They couldn't let such insults go
unnoticed. Somebody had to fight for Jane!

Tillotson's supporters kept the thing stirring. If the meeting could end
in a brawl the odds would be in favor of Tillotson. The effect of
O-liver's uplift would be lost. Even his friends couldn't sway a
fighting crowd back to him.

But they had forgotten to reckon with Jane!

She had seen in a sudden crystal flash the thing which might happen. A
fight would end it all for O-liver. She had seen his efforts at
self-control. She knew his agony of soul. She knew that at any moment he
might knock somebody down--Tillotson or Tillotson's sponsor. And it
would all be in the morning papers. There would be innuendo--the hint of
scandalous things. And O-liver's reputation would pay the price. It was
characteristic that she did not at the moment think of her own
reputation. It was O-liver who must be saved!

And so when Tillotson's backer sat down Jane stood up.

"Please, listen!" she said; and the crowd turned toward her. "Please,
listen, and stop singing that silly song. I never heard anything so
silly as that song in my life!"

Before her scorn the chant died away in a gasp!

"The thing you've got to think about," she went on, "isn't Tillotson or
O-liver Lee. It's Tinkersfield. You want an honest man. And O-liver
Lee's honest. He doesn't want your money. He's got enough of his own.
His father's the richest man in his part of the state and his wife's a
movie actress and makes as much as the President. It sounds like a fairy
tale, but it isn't. If O-liver Lee wanted to live on his father or his
wife he could hold out his hand and let things drop into it. But he'd
rather earn fifteen dollars a week and own his soul. And he isn't a
hypocrite. His friends knew about his marriage. Tommy Drew knew, and I
knew. And there wasn't any particular reason why he should tell the rest
of you, was there? There wasn't any particular reason why he should tell
Tillotson?"

A murmur of laughter followed her questions. There was a feeling in the
crowd that the joke was on Tillotson.

"I wonder how many of you have told your pasts to Tinkersfield! How many
of you have made Tillotson your father confessor?

"As for me"--her head was high--"I sell sandwiches. I am very busy. I
hardly