Clean Dirt

CLEAN DIRT By Blanche Kendall McKey The heart of Paul Reid beat rapturously with the pulse of the living, while Stillwater slept in the silence of death. On the side of the low hill clung the little town, white in the moonlight, its houses grouped about the high-spired church, as if it were the hour for prayer. Paul's train "chug-chugged" into the distance; the black spot dis- appeared; the moon shone upon the ribbon rails as they raced to meet each other far down where the misty green of the open became mistier gray. Silence. The silence of Texas earth breathing a hundred per- fumes and of Texas skies, deeper, wider, more hushing than all the other skies of the states. So thought Paul. The young man set down his valise and drank his fill of the balmy June night, his eyes upon the slumbering town. The silver- windowed high school was plainly discernible, and too the silvered clock-face of the city hall. Hidden by trees was the Mayor's home — Gail's home; but he knew the exact spot. She was sleeping there, dear lady of his dreams! Down in the little hollow below the town proper, clustered the shacks, the tumble-down homes of Stillwater's poor. Pete Cooper's house, the best of them all, stood out con- spicuously. Back of Pete's barn was the shack Paul and his father had called "home." Closing his eyes he shut out the view of the "Hol- low," trying to forget the misery it recalled. He looked up the hill towards Gail's home; and he thought of the diploma which lay in his valise, for Paul was now a doctor of the law. But during the long walk to Stillwater's only hotel, dismal scenes of his stricken childhood kept flocking unpleasantly to his mind. In the course of time, Paul Reid was admitted to the local bar, and a sign was hung out from his small office. When waiting had grown irksome and the little money he had saved was almost gone, there came a message summoning him to the office of Stillwater's mayor. Paul eagerly accepted the invitation. Mayor Halliday arose as the young man entered his inner office. "You-all are welcome," he said courteously, in the soft speech of the South, though Paul felt no warmth in his hand-clasp. He offered a chair opposite his own at the table. It faced directly the strong light pouring in through the window. The older man studied Paul's clear blue questioning eyes. Finally he spoke: "I reckon we both remember our last — er — serious interview?" "I do," replied Paul quietly. "At that time you promised to speak no word of love to my daughter." "I have not forgotten." "My daughter has the — er — impertinence to inform me that you

778 IMPROVEMENT ERA have neither written nor sought an interview with her since your return to Stillwater." "Your daughter told the truth," Paul replied. "Then I feel somewhat — er — obligated to inform you that my daughter — er — rather unfortunately, has not succeeded in driving you out of her heart." "Your news is not associated with misfortune in my mind," said the young man quietly. He waited. Finally Mayor Halliday went on: "When Gail was eighteen I was not alarmed; but she is now twenty-six. She has refused most of the young men of Stillwater and six passers-by. She calls them "ships that pass in the night." "They need not cause alarm, Mayor Halliday, so long as they pass." There was no impertinence in the quiet remark. "Confound it, man, I don't want them to eternally pass!" cried the mayor. Paul suppressed a smile; and the old man continued more calmly: I > "My daughter's happiness is the dearest thing in the world to me. She is all, I have. I'm getting to be an old man; I want to see her settled — protected. I want it right bad." He waited for Paul to speak, but his visitor continued to stare at him questioningly. "Gail is a girl of very strong likes and dislikes," finally the father went on, gloomily. "She has beauty, charm, and — amiability unless she sets her mind upon some undesirable thing." It was Paul who broke the silence. "What do you wish of me, Mayor Halliday?" he queried. "I want you to understand the situation," the mayor replied. "A 'Ship' with a good cargo sails into port to-morrow — at my invi- tation. This 'Ship' happens to be the son of the governor of Texas." "Edward Hale?" asked Paul. "Yes. Do you know him?" "I do. He was a class-mate of Miss Halliday's in Austin." "The same. He is well-born, handsome, promising, and he loves my daughter. My desire is for this 'Ship' not to pass. So I informed Gail last evening. She became angry; she was perfectly capable of managing her own affairs; she stormed. She is reserving herself for you, my dear sir, in the mere supposition that your heart is hers." i , "Miss Halliday knows that I love her very deeply. We know without words that we still love each other." "I'm wondering if I may ask what your intentions are?" the old man queried, sarcastically. "My intentions have not changed, sir," answered Paul. "I am trying to place myself in a position where I can feel justified in asking you to release me from my promise." "Your — er — prospects, at present?" ventured the mayor. "Are very poor," replied Paul, grimly. "And so of course I

CLEAN DIRT 779 cannot stand in Miss Halliday's way if she can — like this seventh. 'Ship.' But I feel that it is I who can really make her happy. No amount of poverty can take that comfort out of my heart." The mayor of Stillwater leaned across the table. "It is not the poverty that I object to, Reid," he said. "It is something far more deeply rooted. You will pardon my frankness, but I have been mayor here for a long time, and it is hard to believe that permanent good can come out of the Hollow." "Dirt isn't always dirty," replied Paul in a low voice. He was recalling his mother's gentleness — in spite of the Hollow — and the brown soil that now covered her dust. "Out in the open field, under the sun, dirt is clean." He arose. "I do not know that I should make any apology," he said quietly. "The sins of my unhappy father all belong to the 'omission' class. That does not excuse him, but it is better than being an out and out criminal. But I hug to my heart; a different philosophy from yours. Mine is: 'The virtues of the mothers shall be visited upon the children unto the third and fourth generation.' At least that is my hope." He crossed to the door. "Just a moment, Paul," said the mayor, rising. "The Hollow is giving us a good deal of trouble. Do you want a job?" "Yes." "Do you go into the Hollow?" "At times. The friends of my childhood are there; I could not be a spy." "Where do you stand in regard to the State's prohibition laws?" "I stand with the State," replied Paul. "Yet you will not defend the laws?" "I hope that I did not imply that," answered Paul. "What do you want me to do?" "Become a prohibition enforcement officer and work under cover." "My field?" asked Paul. "The entire county," replied Mayor Halliday. He named the salary. "Do you accept?" "Of course," answered Paul. After the mayor had made necessary explanations to the younger man, and when Paul was preparing to leave, Halliday remarked: "A man can't help admiring you, Reid: you know how to stick. . But don't misunderstand me; I shall do all in my power to keep the seventh 'Ship' from passing." Paul Reid, attorney-at-law and prohibition officer, threw his whole energy into an investigation of the liquor question; and with heavy heart he recognized the truth that evidence pointed more and more conclusively to the fact that Pete Cooper was a vital factor in the illicit liquor trade that was demoralizing the state. One night he knocked upon Cooper's door, and Elsie, the only

7 80 IMPROVEMENT ERA • daughter of the house, opened it. She welcomed him warmly, joy flushing her sallow cheeks. Her joyous call brought her father into the room. Pete Cooper was a large man with protruding black eyes and an over-seamed face. The sullen lines broke into a delighted smile when he saw Paul. He looked him over approvingly. "You am a wonder, Paul," he chuckled, drawling his words and slighting his "r's." "You look better every time I see you; you- all am a right smart fellah." Paul, absorbed in the old man, did not notice Elsie, whose eyes bespoke an emotion deeper than pride in her friends achievements. Before he left, Paul told Pete pointedly that unsuspecting bootleggers were being watched by the law, and had better take warning lest trouble overtake them. Cooper scowled his contempt of the law. The next day Reid located a still in the hollow of a low hill north of Stillwater. The mayor prosecuted to the extreme limit of the law the two men caught red-handed. Stillwater began to divide more and more decidedly into two factions, one for and one against Halliday. Again Paul went to Cooper's home. "Pete, for the love of goodness, give thisi game up before the law gets you," he implored. "What game?" "You know. Pull out, Pete." "You betteh pull out o' here, sonny. You arn't contented with becoming a ejucated swell; you've got to turn reformer. You-all have come to the wrong house." "Pete, I'm your friend." Something in the boy's sincere tone made the old man turn to him. "An' I was a friend to you once, sonny." "Don't you think I know it? I never could forget your kind- ness. You saved me many a time when father . This was the only real shelter I ever knew after mother — went. If ever a man owed another a good turn, I owe one to you. Give up what you are doing." Cooper shot him a quick glance under scowling eye-brows. "Who is it you are afraid of?" he asked. "Mayor Halliday." Pete gave vent to a coarse laugh that rumbled into an oath. "Mayor Halliday is getting too old for his job," he said. "He's getting entirely too finicky. It's a good thing his term is almost oveh. Stillwater needs a young mayor — not an old crank; some young felleh like — like — " "Like Paul," finished Elsie. Her words had a peculiar effect upon Pete. He stared at Paul as if he were seeing him for the first time: magnetic, handsome, well-edu-

CLEAN DIRT 781 catcd, the type which easily grows into an idol of the people. Finally he commented: "Yes, some young felleh like Paul." As a sequence of this incident, Cooper and two of his friends dropped into Ried's small office a few days later. Pete, after having officiated in the introduction, let the communication be carried on by more expert tongues. They were representing the new party — the people's party. The citizens of Stillwater were tired of old-fogie methods. They wanted a young mayor. "Just what will your new methods imply?" Paul asked. "A little more individual freedom, for one thing. And we want the children of the Hollow to have a chance. There is no real democ- racy in Stillwater. What we want is a young man with a forward look." For two hours Paul discussed "Liberty" and "License." In the end he accepted the candidacy to run for mayor against Halliday. Meanwhile, the seventh "Ship," colors flying, had sailed into port, — and still lingered in Stillwater. The hatred for Paul, smolder- ing in Hall's heart since the days, four years ago, when gay little Gail Halliday had preferred the attentions of a penniless boy to those of the governor's son, burst into flame almost unbearable. Hearing that Paul Reid would run for mayor against Halliday, the governor's son made a quiet investigation; and discovering that to all appearances Reid was to be an exponent of the lawless, Edward Hale, under cover, stood like a financial rock behind fierce campaigning for Reid. One day two illicit dealers in liquor were convicted; and the mayor commissioned Paul to locate the distillery. For the third time Paul went to Pete Cooper. "You are in the danger zone for sure now, Pete. Certain people think you own a still." "Who, for instance?" "For instance — I do." "Old Pete ain't afraid o' you-all, sonny." "You have cause to fear." "You-all do take a powerful interest in the old man." "I'm fond of you — you know that; I don't want to see you sent up." Cooper narrowed his black eyes and studied Paul. "Where do you-all think the still you was speaking of is located?" he asked. "Right here," Paul replied. "You-all are free to search." Cooper thrust a lighted lantern into Paul's hand, and began showing him the ins and outs of his house. Reid peered into every crevice. He explored the grounds and out-houses. From across a rickity pole fence, his own former home scowled with cob-webbed and

782 IMPROVEMENT ERA boarded windows. He found not the slightest evidence of a still on the Cooper premises. Hurrying homeward up the dark path toward the town, the young man heard a voice call softly: "Paul" and Elsie stepped into the open. "I want to tell you something," she said. "What is it, Elsie?" Paul asked. "It's a bad gang that's behind you, Paul. They don't care for you, really. They chose you because you are young and they think they can run you." "You mean run the bootlegging, don't you?" said Paul. "Chiefly," the girl replied. She looked at him with harassed eyes. "I love my father — but I am your friend, too. You see, I haven't forgotten the old days either. If my father's friends were only different!" "Many of the men in your father's gang are not really bad — just mistaken and unenlightened. Don't worry, Elsie; my eyes are not entirely closed. And I thank you." As they walked back down the dark path they chatted mostly of Elsie's father. The girl wondered about Gail and Paul; her heart was full of inquiries but she voiced only trivialities. She would not allow Paul to come closer to her home because of her father. When Elsie had gone back into the house, Paul noiselessly climbed the pole fence which divided his old home from Pete's. Stealthily he made a circuit of the deserted place, examining the boarded windows. Both doors were firmly locked. The glass was broken from a small back window, and a board was nailed across it. He tugged at the board until he loosened and finally removed it. Then with difficulty Paul crawled through the small opening into the room. Groping about in the darkness he discovered that an old piece of carpet covered the center of the small room. Rolling this back, he located the trap door leading to the cellar. He crept down the creaky stairs, closing the lid above him. Here he dared to strike a match. A stone crock sat on a bench; in one of the corners, upon the floor were some bottles, a pan, and a large wooden spoon; in another corner of the ill-smelling place was a still. The law-breakers were bold, for the deserted cabin was no-man's-land. Then Paul did a queer thing. Having once more crawled through the small window, he noiselessly carried bucketfuls of water from the pump and saturated the old pole fence and Pete's barn. Crawling back into the cabin, he poured a bottle of the moonshine upon the rug and threw a lighted match upon it. The old Reid cabin burned to the ground. In the morning the sunshine streamed into the cellar, revealing the blackened still only partially destroyed. Old Pete was furious. He telephoned Paul to come and see the ruins of his erstwhile home. "Is this a sample of your law?" he asked.

CLEAN DIRT 78 3 "A man can drive a nest of serpents out of his own house if he pleases," Paul retorted. So it spread about town that Paul Reid had set fire to the dis- tillery. That same day the mayor sent for Paul. "You are bungling things like a two-year-old," he complained. "Why didn't you watch the place and catch the thieves?" Paul had no reasonable explanation, and the indignant mayor accused him of protecting Pete's coterie because they were pushing him for mayor. Halliday's words burnt like a flame. Ill-luck was pressing hard upon Paul, for within an hour he received a message from Elsie Cooper to meet her without fail at nine o'clock that night where the Stillwater road runs into the trail lead- ing to the Hollow. At nine o'clock, as Paul reached the lonely spot, Elsie stepped out of the black shadow of the trees. "They're laying for you, Paul," the girl said. "They've got it in for you for burning that shack. You must carry a gun; if you don't your life isn't worth that." She snapped her strong fingers, and the report sounded loud on the still air. "Why do you put yourself out so bravely to befriend me, Elsie?" Paul asked. The girl looked at him with drawn face. "I am so miserable, Paul. Don't you think I know how you have had to fight to rise above the Hollow? I'm a girl; I couldn't rise — I didn't have the nerve. But you — oh, Paul, you are wonder- ful! And I — I love you for it!" Reid stared down into Elsie's taut face. There was something unreal, ghost-like about her, swaying in the darkness. Suddenly she burst into tears. "I am very weak and very wretched!" she moaned. He placed his arm about her, attempting to comfort her. Finally her weeping became less violent. Neither of them noticed an automobile which rounded the curve and came straight towards them. The driver saw the pair and slowed down. Reid took a step away from Elsie, then stood gazing into the searching white light, which so blinded him that he did not recognize the occupants. They were Gail Halliday and her still-loitering seventh "Ship." "Your hero, my lady!" derided Edward Hall. "Mr. Reid has business which takes him into the Hollow at all hours," defended Gail. "Do you know why he didn't catch Pete Cooper instead of burning his still?" asked Hall. "No." "It's quite commonly known in town. Of course, it would not reach your ears, but Reid is in love with Cooper's buxom Elsie." So the morning mail brought Paul the following letter: "We agreed long ago that if one of us came to care for another, that one was to let the other know. I at least have enough honor to comply with

784 IMPROVEMENT ERA that sincere agreement. This evening I became engaged to the son of Governor Hall." It was the eve of election. Worn out with campaigning and heart-sick with disappointment, Paul broke away from the crowd, and taking the path which led to the cemetery, climbed the quiet hill back of Stillwater. How small was the settlement below! For so little gain had he given his best efforts! Somewhere in the big world beyond Stillwater surely there was a corner where an earnest man would be welcome. Elsie loved him; she was weary of the Hollow and its willfulness. He would take her — somewhere; together they would forget Stillwater. As he entered the small city of the dead, Paul felt that his portion was a bitter cup. He thought of the night of his return from the law school with his faith in Gail supreme. Now he bowed his head in utter anguish. ~ There was not the ghost of a chance of his being elected on the morrow, for he had lost out with both parties: men were puzzled as to where he stood in regard to the liquor question; Mayor Halliday thought him a fool. If love survives the barrier called death, surely his mother, who had known so much earthly sorrow, yearned to help him. If wrong-doing laid an iron hand on innocent off-spring, surely right-doing held a torch of inspiration. To the God of things called "clean" Paul begged for vision and strength. The day's dying light tinted the still little lake which gave the town its name. A few stars shone faintly. Below in the town, lights began to flicker here and there. Suddenly strains of martial music, softened by the dis- tance, broke the silence of earth and skies. Paul's eyes kindled, for from that quiet grave and the God of things "clean," a light had come, and his being was permeated with strength: rather would he suffer utter loneliness than desecrate the emotion he felt for Gail by accept- ing a lesser love; never could he desert a cause so long as it was right. He hurried) down the path to the town; and forgetful of not having eaten since morning, made his way to the town hall, on the steps of which the band was now playing, "There'll be a hot time in the old town to-night." Like many another such building, Stillwater's town hall served many purposes. It was the only structure of the town which could accommodate a large crowd, and the up-stairs was often used as a theatre, across the center of which were folding doors, which made possible two spacious rooms. Tonight the doors were closed and both rooms were filled with people. Someone was making a speech on his left, but his own meeting had not begun. Perhaps his absence had delayed it. Hurrying to the entrance, he recognized Edward Hall as the speaker on the other side. Paul heard: "Can you afford to vote for such a man, fellow citizens, — a man who sprang out of the dirt of the Hollow? A man who has neither the taste to appreciate, nor the sense to enforce clean measures?" "Then will you-all tell us why you spent three thousand dollars

CLEAN DIRT 785 and up'ards campaigning fer him?" broke in a strident, unsteady voice. Paul pushed through the crowd and gained the doorway. Pete Cooper stood in the isle near the folding doors. Fires smoldered in his blood-shot eyes; his face was crimson; he stood unsteadily. "Put the derelict out!" called the governor's son. "No, you-all won't put me out," yelled Cooper, shaking an unsteady fist. "I'm just asking a civil question: Why do you spend money on a man and then throw mud at him?" Evidently Pete had had a lapse of memory in regard to "keeping still." "Open the folding doors and shove him in where he belongs!" shouted Hall. "You-all won't shove me out o' here, young felleh," retorted Cooper, making a zig-zag but progressive way up the isle to the plat- form. "You-all didn't give us that money, huh? You turn-coat, you!" "Shut up!" "You want to silence me, eh? I got witnesses; I " Hall raised his fist and took a step down from the platform. Above the murmuring, exclaiming, and general noise of the excited people, Paul Reid's voice rang clearly from the doorway: "Mr. Hall." Edward Hall shot him a glance from lowering eyes. "Mr. Hall, may I remind you that Mr. Cooper is an old man, — and he's drunk." "Then take him in where he belongs," shouted Hall. "You-all said it, sonny," said Cooper, turning himself around with the help of the railing of the platform steps and beginning an uncertain return journey up the isle. "I go with Paul Reid." There was a burst of laughter, which Cooper silenced with a wave of his hand: "Vote for our candidate, Mr. Paul Reid, gentl'men," he said with true Southern gallantry. "Mr. Paul Reid, who never forgets his friends." A roar of laughter followed which Cooper could not silence; he made his way to the folding-doors with chest rigidly lifted, feeling that part of the glory of the universe had settled upon his uplifted head. It was Edward Hall's hand that finally brought silence. "Vote for Mr. Paul Reid, gentlemen," he quoted derisively. "This has been a good illustration of the point I was making when interrupted. Under Reid's jurisdiction Stillwater would swim in Cooper's poison." "If you give me half a moment I'll tell you where I stand on the liquor question," said Paul earnestly. "By burning the stills and letting the culprits go free?" sneered Hall. "I'll explain that, too." "Your explanation would come too late: we have made our decision. Stillwater can't afford to choose as her highest executive a man who is afraid to come out into the open."

786 IMPROVEMENT ERA "I'll meet you on this or any other platform right now." "You are on the wrong side of the door." Paul turned and started towards the folding doors, but he was arrested by a slight noise from the audience. He turned. A small girl in a grey coat had risen from her seat near the stage. "Mr. Chairman," she said musically, albeit a little unsteadily. It wa9 Gail's voice. "Miss Halliday," acknowledged the astonished son of the gov- ernor of Texas. "I trust Mr. Hall will pardon me for reminding him that he is occupying my fatheh's chair. We all know my fatheh: he has always been a man of honor. I move, Mr. Chairman, that you accept my decision for my fatheh's; I move that the gentleman who desires to address us be allowed to speak." She sat down in a tense silence, which was broken by Reid him- self. "Mr. Chairman," he said in a low voice, "I thank Miss Halliday heartily, but I am going into my own people. If anyone is interested he is welcome to come in." Pete Cooper threw open the wide doors, and Paul's entrance was greeted enthusiastically. He was conscious of a great physical weak- ness, brought upon him by lack of food and by Gail's courageous little speech, which had almost completely unnerved him; but he took his place upon the platform. The band struck up "Behold, the con- quering hero comes," and people from the other rally crowded the wide doorway. The chairman's voice sounded far away to Paul as he announced the chief speaker of the evening, Mr. Reid. Automatically Reid arose and stepped to the front of the platform. He moistened his dry lips, but no sound issued. "Mr. Reid has the floor," piped a boy from the doorway, who a moment or two before had been thrilled by Paul's assurance and who now stood grinning at the man's tardy seizing of opportunity. The laugh which followed brought Paul to his senses. "My friends," he began in a steady voice, and with a peculiar look in his eyes as if they were flooded with an inner light, "let iis forget, for the moment, party ties which divide. We all love Texas; we all love Stillwater; we all want to see our state and our town progress. But there has never been a time in the world's history when all men could see alike. And so we have been torn by dissension, harsh of judgment, and unkind of speech; but down in our hearts we have all been striving for the same thing: to have bur town alive, strong in integrity, and clean. We must stand behind the mayor of our city, for he is merely enforcing the laws which we ourselves have helped to make. We are not all converted to the present dry laws, and that's what makes the trouble. We like to go down into our cellars and bring up a bottle when our friends drop in. We think a frank drink or two is not so bad as hiding, law-breaking, and poison brewing. But that's the vision of the present, — we must look ahead. These dry

CLEAN DIRT 78 7 laws, which seem harsh today, will establish permanent good tomor- row. You have wondered about me and this* question. Now I'll clear it up once and for all: I despise liquor. Do you think I have forgotten my childhood? Cannot some of you remember it? I would give my right hand now if the giving would quench the thirst of men. But the poison we make is worse than the thirst; and the money we make from moonshine is tainted." He paused a moment, thoughtful. There was not a movement in the audience. Then he went on: "You have wondered why I burned my old shack. Some of you know what Pete Cooper's family did for me when I was a luckless kid. I'll take care of Pete Cooper all his life, just as I would my own father. But here I sound a solemn warning that from tomorrow on there will be no mercy shown boot- leggers, for tomorrow you choose between the present mayor and myself: it's one of us for you, by your own election, and we stand together like a rock on this proposition. And that doesn't mean that the Hollow will be persecuted. Pete was right when he said I stand by my friends. But the Hollow must be made clean. Someone spoke tonight of the 'dirt' of that section. We must sweep the dirt out of the cabins into the gardens — for dirt that the sun shines upon, and that flowers grow in, and into which we lower our dead, is clean. A few hours ago I thought that I would leave Stillwater; but I see differently now. Stillwater needs every loyal citizen, and I'm not going to be a quitter. If Mayor Halliday goes in tomorrow, I'll stay right here and stand one hundred percent behind him and help make Stillwater clean." When the cheers were over, when the other speakers had waxed hoarse with their eloquence, when the band had taken its stirring airs out to serenade the unstirred stars, Paul sought Gail. She had thrown off her coat and was leaning against the platform where a boxed oleander tree breathed deliciously. Every line of her slender figure bespoke weariness. She smiled as Paul approached. "I wish to thank you, Gail. I think no woman ever did a braver thing for a man." "I think it very little," she answered. "I could give — " She stopped, but their eyes met "in the old frank look of devotion. "May I walk home with you, Gail?" Stiffening, the girl changed completely. "No; Elsie would miss you," she said. "Elsie?" As she made no answer either by word or look he repeated the name, and finally asked, "What do you mean?" "I mean just what my own eyes led me to know. Mr. Hall, are you ready?" Edward Hall turned his dark face to Paul. As he helped the weary girl into her coat, his action expressed no tenderness. In the greatest agony he had ever felt, Paul watched the pair go — for he could not protect Gail, and she was too tender, too sensitive, too rich in ability not to meet sorrow in that contemplated marriage. The

788 IMPROVEMENT ERA young man had forgotten time and its flight, when he became aware of a presence near, and turning he looked into the keen eyes of Mayor Halliday. "I heard part of your speech, Paul," he drawled. "I would like to shake your hand." The men shook cordially. "United we stand," laughed the mayor, but Paul's gloomy mood did not alter. "I — er — saw you talking to my daughter," said Halliday, turning his eyes away from Paul's face. "Indeed?" came the reply. "Er — yes." That seemed to end the unsatisfactory communication; but Paul suddenly turned his direct gaze upon the older man. "Perhaps it shows my lack of sense for me to expect anyone to understand the spirit in which I am going to express myself. I reckon I am just as selfish about my love as any other man. But I could lose Miss Halliday with far better grace if she had chosen a more promising 'Ship.' " "You refer to the son of the governor of Texas?" "I do. He sprang from] a clean house, but that does not insure any man's soul from becoming besmirched. We are all the children of God; but sometimes that relationship fails to exhibit itself where one would naturally look for it, just as divinity sometimes crops up in unexpected places." "You are still the Rock of Gibraltar regarding Gail?" asked the girl's father. "I shall always be," Paul replied. "Well, I never did pay much attention to that 'Elsie' story. I'm going home and thrash this whole thing out with Gail. Never can sleep election nights any way." The votes of the little town clinging to the low Texan hills scarcely reached, colored and white, to two thousand. When they were counted next day, the majority had been cast for Paul Reid. Gail telephoned congratulations. "My fatheh wants to see you," she added. There was silence on Paul's end of the wire. "Are you there?" "Yes," answered Reid. "Paul, I have made some right good punch — harmless, you know. Perhaps you could suggest it sometimes as a substitute. And I have some sewing here that Elsie Cooper could do. And, Paul, I've been wondering if we could start a night school down in the Hollow, Paul?" "Yes." "I think you'd better come oveh." The future mayor of Stillwater went. Ricks College, Rexburg. Idaho