ight have been but the idle boast of a half-drunken washerwoman.
What should she do? Send for Judge Bateman?--Bailey?--Allingham? Not
yet. She would look into it herself a little more.

She sent for the city treasurer, who came in somewhat uncertain as to
what this woman could want with him. But he soon found out, for after
perfunctory greetings, the Mayor put the case squarely before him.

"Mr. Hanaford, I would like to look into the matter of our expenses for
the last year or two."

"Why, certainly, I will draw up the statement for you," he answered in
some surprise.

"No. That is in all the reports, I suppose," she said; "I would prefer
to look into the books myself. I can then take the time to study the
situation and compare figures."

"But really, Miss Van Deusen,--your Honor--you do not mean to insinuate
that you do not trust me?" The man's tone was aggrieved, almost
rebellious.

"I insinuate nothing. I distrust nobody," she replied quietly. "But our
charter gives the mayor access to all the books and accounts of the city
at any time. I wish to familiarize myself with the city records,
financial as well as clerical."

"Very well," said Mr. Hanaford. "But this is--may I be excused for
saying it?--unexpected." He was saying to himself, "And what we might
expect from a woman, with no knowledge of business."

"Will you come to my office?" he added respectfully, reassured by the
thought that because she was a woman, she could not grapple with the
problems before her, except by special study in each department.

"It will be better for you to bring all the books to my office," she
answered. "Please have them here tomorrow morning."

Mr. Hanaford had scarcely gone out of hearing when an unfamiliar name
was announced, with the information that the man insisted on seeing the
mayor.

"I have tried to make him tell what he wants," said Mary Snow, "but
apparently he wants nothing but you. He is a gentleman,--that is, he
dresses and speaks like one."

"Send him in and stay near the telephone," said Gertrude. And a moment
later a stranger entered,--a well-dressed, heavily mustached man of
forty-five.

"Your Honor, the Mayor," he began. "I am proud to meet the first woman
who sits in a mayor's chair in America." He waited for her to be seated
and then drew up a chair close to her desk.

"Thank you. Let us hope I may not be the last," answered Gertrude.

"There will never be one that will grace the office more c