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64 Mr. Boyle"'Tis not all," went on Mr. Boyle."Th' gyur-rl's health was dishtroyed.'Twas down sick in bed she was f 'r wakes,and whilst she was so she lost a chanst avtwo jobs, an' thot smashed her entoirly.So she tuk th' brownchitis of a bad wetday goin' afther wor-rk, an' 'tis gonn t' herlungs, an' we don't know now if we'll saveher at all at all."Dick, silent, thought rapidly. He puthis arm about the man's shoulder as theshaking sentences ended. "Mr. Boyle,"he said then, "I see now why you'restrong for woman's suffrage, and I don'twonder a bit. But, look here, you keepup your courage; we'll save your girl.I've thought of somebody who—who'llknow how. What she needs is hope, Ireckon. And—there's somebody I knowwho—who could put hope into a boiledfish," Dick finished eloquently. "Willyou brace up till I can see about it?" headjured.And Mr. Boyle, the flash being turnedon his tear-stained face, was seen to besmiling tremulously. "I will. 'Tis agood young shtatesman yez are," saidMr. Boyle. "Ye've put hope into me.Good night, sor-r."Under the doorway of Dick's roomlay a letter—his mother's writing. Heswitched on the lamp on his big oaktable and sat down under the greenshadedlight to read it."My laddie," the letter began, "I havea confession to make which I'm nervousabout. You're going to be horriblyshocked. Please put down this letter,and walk twice around your big oak table,and think of all the bad things I couldpossibly do and resign yourself to theworst, and then—have you done it?"Dick got up, smiling, and marchedtwice around the table. He dropped intothe chair, curious but amused; he readon:"Dick—I've turned suffragist. SUF­FRAGIST ! ME. Your conventional, conservative,not so high-brow, not so badlydressed closest relation. I'm afraid ofwhat my clever lad may say, but, Dicky—you can't shake me, whatever you say, forI came to it sorely against my will and,as you know, against my traditions, andI believe in it because I can't help it. Ican't see any way around it if I wish tobe sincere. I'm not intelligent, like you,boy, and I had only the education whichwas thought good enough for girls, butMrs. Elliott Dane has been talking to me,and she's clever. You know she is a cleverperson. I think that she convinced meby her simplest argument. She saidartificial and arbitrary disqualificationswere to be distrusted and that a woman'sdisqualifications were that sort—that noone knows if she's fitted for the franchiseor not—simply, men have decided it.That's all. She said every living creatureshould have an equal chance, a fair sharein education, an open entrance to professions,an opportunity for service. Thevote, Mrs. Dane says, is a trivial point,but that one class of people should be ableto say whether another class shall haveit and shall say no is a gratuitous insult;it galls out of proportion to its importance.""Ah!" Dick spoke aloud. The girl'svery words; Mrs. Dane had also beenreading Sir Oliver Lodge."There are miles of argument, Dicky,but I won't make you read my rehash.When you come home you can talk toMrs. Dane—and you will like to. Youremember how pretty she is? She hasbeen in Paris and wears clothes to makeone's mouth water. To see her in her bigcar with her four radiant boys and herbeaming husband—that is rather a suffrageargument in itself. Well, I'm terrifiedat the thought of your displeasure—terrified but firm. Yes, in my shakingway, absolutely firm. But, Dicky, I hateto think of our disagreeing. Couldn't youlook into it and see if you can't consistentlybe a suffragist, too ? I would cry withjoy if you could. Emily Bristed's boytold me the other day that if women gotthe ballot he would never again give hisseat in the street-car to a woman. AndI said: 'Maybe not, Tommy, but your sonwill'" In any case, I shall be sitting on thefront door-step waiting for the postmantill I hear from you, so write me a quickletter."A telephone message in the morningmade an engagement for the afternoonwith the Only Girl in the World."It's a shame to bother you," Dicksaid when the miracle of being in her