of it before. Hang it all, you see
a fellow was always so certain it would be something out of the way and
detrimental, don't you know, that would take the fancy of a girl like
that--somebody like that cousin of hers or Higbee, or even ME, by Jove
that we never thought of looking beyond our noses--never thought of the
BUSINESS! And YOU all the time so cold and silent and matter-of-fact
about it! But I congratulate you! You've got the business down on a safe
basis now, and what's more, you've got the one woman who can run it."

They say he was a true prophet. At least the Syndicate affairs
prospered, and in course of time even the Reeds and the Higbees
participated in the benefits. There were no more racial disturbances;
only the districts polled a peaceful and SMALLER Democratic majority at
the next election. There were not wanting those who alleged that Colonel
Courtland had simply become MRS. COURTLAND'S SUPERINTENDENT; that she
had absorbed him as she had every one who had come under her influence,
and that she would not rest until she had made him a Senator (to
represent Mrs. Courtland) in the councils of the nation. But when I last
dined with them in Washington, ten years ago, I found them both very
happy and comfortable, and I remember that Mrs. Courtland's remarks upon
Federal and State interests, the proper education of young girls, and
the management of the family, were eminently wise and practical.

THE CONSPIRACY OF MRS. BUNKER.

PART I.

On the northerly shore of San Francisco Bay a line of bluffs terminates
in a promontory, at whose base, formed by the crumbling debris of the
cliff above, there is a narrow stretch of beach, salt meadow, and scrub
oak. The abrupt wall of rock behind it seems to isolate it as completely
from the mainland as the sea before it separates it from the opposite
shore. In spite of its contiguity to San Francisco,--opposite also, but
hidden by the sharp re-entering curve of coast,--the locality was wild,
uncultivated, and unfrequented. A solitary fisherman's cabin half hidden
in the rocks was the only trace of habitation. White drifts of sea-gulls
and pelican across the face of the cliff, gray clouds of sandpipers
rising from the beach, the dripping flight of ducks over the salt
meadows, and the occasional splash of a seal from the rocks, were the
only signs of life that could be seen from the decks of passing ships.
And yet the fisherman's cabin was occupied by Zephas B