what we
ought to do. God, man, there's only one thing to do, and that's to
call the whole damned performance off!"

"That's my opinion," said the prosecutor. "What do you think, Doctor
Sherman?"

The young minister wiped his pale face.

"It's a most miserable affair. I'm sick because of the part I've been
forced to play--I'm sorry for Doctor West--and I'm particularly sorry
for his daughter--but I do not see that any other course would be
possible."

"I suppose we ought to consult Mr. Blake," said Kennedy.

"He's not in town," returned Bruce. "And we don't need to consult him.
We three are a majority of the committee. The matter has to be settled
at once. And it's settled all right!"

The editor jerked out his watch, glanced at it, then reached for his
hat.

"I'll have this on the street in an hour--and if this town doesn't go
wild, then I don't know Westville!"

He was making for the door, when the newspaper man in him recalled a
new detail of his story. He turned back.

"How about this daughter of Doctor West?" he asked.

The prosecutor looked at the minister.

"Was she coming home for the celebration, do you know?"

"Yes. She wrote Mrs. Sherman she was leaving New York this morning and
would get in here to-morrow on the Limited."

"What's she like?" asked Bruce.

"Haven't you seen her?" asked Kennedy.

"She hasn't been home since I came back to Westville. When I left here
she was a tomboy--mostly legs and freckles."

The prosecutor's lean face crinkled with a smile.

"I guess you'll find she's grown right smart since then. She went to
one of those colleges back East; Vassar, I think it was. She got hold
of some of those new-fangled ideas the women in the East are crazy
over now--about going out in the world for themselves, and----"

"Idiots--all of them!" snapped Bruce.

"After she graduated, she studied law. When she was back home two
years ago she asked me what chance a woman would have to practise law
in Westville. A woman lawyer in Westville--oh, Lord!"

The prosecutor leaned back and laughed at the excruciating humour of
the idea.

"Oh, I know the kind!" Bruce's lips curled with contempt.
"Loud-voiced--aggressive--bony--perfect frights."

"Let me suggest," put in Doctor Sherman, "that Miss West does not
belong in that classification."

"Yes, I guess you're a little wrong about Katherine West," smiled
Kennedy.

Bruce waved his hand peremptorily. "They're all the same! But what's