OF THE 
 UNIVEKSITY 
 
 OF 
 
 C^^LTFOK't^^^ 
 
Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 
 in 2008 with funding from 
 
 Microsoft Corporation 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/crayonclueOOreynrich 
 
THE CRAYON CLUE 
 
THE 
 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 BY 
 
 l^ttNNIE ' J ' REYNOLDS 
 
 NEW YORK ' IvUTCHELL KENNERLEY - I9I5 
 
COPYRIGHT, 191 5, BY 
 MITCHELL KENNERLEY 
 
 PRINTED IN AMERICA 
 
9&t 
 c»»o- 
 
 To 
 
 HELEN M. REYNOLDS 
 
 In Memoriam 
 
 ivi597422 
 
FOREWORD 
 
 THIS story is an extension of a piece of short 
 fiction written by myself and published un- 
 der the name of Mary Ronald in the Delineator 
 of May, 19 10. 
 
 The Author. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER PAcra 
 
 I. IN WHICH BILLY LISTENS TO CONVERSATION 
 
 SHE WAS NEVER INTENDED TO HEAR I 
 
 II. IN WHICH BILLY TRIES A LITTLE DETECTIVE 
 
 WORK 13 
 
 III. IN WHICH billy's SYMPATHIES ARE DEEPLY 
 
 STIRRED 22 
 
 IV. IN WHICH billy's TEMPER IS SEVERELY TRIED 38 
 
 V. IN WHICH BILLY ACQUIRES HER FIRST DIS- 
 CIPLE 59 
 
 VI. IN WHICH BILLY GAINS NEWSPAPER EXPE- 
 RIENCE AND BECOMES A RECEIVER OF 
 
 STOLEN PROPERTY 74 
 
 VII. IN WHICH BILLY COMMITS PERSONAL VIO- 
 LENCE 95 
 
 VIII. IN WHICH BILLY GETS A SCARE I16 
 
 IX. IN WHICH BILLY GOES TO THE LEGISLATURE I33 
 
 X. IN WHICH BILLY MEETS A REAL MAN I74 
 
 XI. IN WHICH BILLY GOES ON THE STUMP I98 
 
 XII. IN WHICH BILLY IS IMMERSED IN POLITICS 224 
 
 XIII. IN WHICH BILLY SEES TROUBLE 26$ 
 
 XIV. WHICH EXPLAINS ABOUT THE MESSENGER BOY 297 
 
 XV. WHICH SEES THE END OF THE CAMPAIGN 325 
 
 XVI. THE WIND-UP 357 
 
CRAYON CLUE 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 In Which Billy Listens to CoNVERSAtiON 
 She Was Never Intended to Hear 
 
 THE girl stood in the outer office in an atti- 
 tude of listening. Her finger even went 
 to her lip, quite unconsciously, and her body bent 
 forward, every muscle taut. Through the door 
 of the inner office, slightly ajar, came the tones 
 of Brackett, the district superintendent, the pe- 
 culiar dull, heavy tones, which Billy always de- 
 scribed as "smothery." 
 
 "It's none of your business whether the books 
 are suitable or not," said the voice. "That's a 
 matter entirely outside your jurisdiction. The 
 Board of Education will decide what books are 
 to be used by the children of Bartown. It's your 
 business to see that the orders of the Board are 
 carried out, whether as to the buying of books 
 or anything else." 
 
 "But the books are not only useless but a 
 hindrance," said a woman's voice. "They hinder 
 the teachers in their work. Every teacher in the 
 
 I 
 
2 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 building says she can get better results without 
 them." 
 
 ''That has nothing to do with the case,'* re- 
 plied the man's voice. ''And I'm sorry to be 
 obliged to tell you, Miss Forrest, that If you con- 
 tinue to Interfere In matters outside your province 
 I shall feel It my painful duty not to recommend 
 you for reappointment." 
 
 His step sounded, coming towards the door. 
 With a lithe movement the girl stepped behind 
 the screen which stood before the wash bowl. 
 Through a hole In said screen she watched the 
 man walk through the outer office. In his slow, 
 shuffling way, and disappear through the hall 
 door, while a woman followed him and stopped 
 by the large flat-topped desk In the centre of the 
 room. 
 
 To this woman, standing In dejected attitude, 
 appeared the girl from behind the screen. 
 
 Miss Forrest beheld her with a nervous jump. 
 
 "Miss Pennington I" she ejaculated. 
 
 Miss Pennington looked at her steadily. 
 
 "1) understand some things now that I didn't 
 before," she said. 
 
 "But — Miss Pennington I To listen I" 
 
 "I'm not In the least ashamed of It. It's time 
 for somebody to listen, I should think." 
 
 The older woman sank suddenly Into the chair 
 beside the desk and bowed her face upon her 
 hands. 
 
BILLY LISTENS TO CONVERSATION 3 
 
 "You see how It Is," she said in a broken tone. 
 **I suppose the teachers blame me for a great 
 many things." 
 
 "We have done so," admitted Miss Penning- 
 ton. "We haven't understood. We will under- 
 stand better now." 
 
 "But, Billy," exclaimed Miss Forrest, "you 
 mustn't mention this to the rest. It mustn't be 
 talked over. It's dangerous." 
 
 "I understand," said Miss Pennington. "You 
 trust me. I haven't taught In the Bartown schools 
 ten years for nothing." 
 
 "You mustn't make any use of this, Billy," said 
 Miss Forrest earnestly. "You mustn't speak of 
 it." 
 
 She was apparently dissatisfied with the other's 
 silence. 
 
 "Will you promise me?" she insisted. 
 
 "No, I won't promise anything," said the other, 
 "except that I won't hurt you in any way." 
 
 "But what are you going to do, Billy?" 
 
 "I don't know," said "Billy." "Nothing, prob- 
 ably, about this particular thing, anyway. But 
 something has got to be done about the whole sit- 
 uation. It's becoming unbearable." 
 
 They parted after a few more words, and 
 Miss Pennington took her way homeward. School 
 closed at three o'clock for the children, but it had 
 been nearly six when her after-school work was 
 
4 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 finished, and it was dark when she boarded her 
 car. 
 
 This young lady's full name was Wilhelmina 
 Derwent Pennington ; a portentous appellation for 
 so small and cheerful a person. But all her 
 friends, and they were legion, called her Billy 
 Pen, a cognomen much more in keeping with her 
 slim smallness and her infectious grin. 
 
 Billy Pen's face was so grave and downcast 
 that it was calculated to appall anyone who knew 
 her habitual countenance ; as sunshiny a little phiz 
 as ever helped to brighten dull humanity. Her 
 brown eyes were downcast throughout the ride. 
 Her red gold hair, which curled as naturally and 
 crisply as a little pig's tail, actually seemed to 
 droop, though the weather was cold. She hung 
 to her strap automatically, she moved up auto- 
 matically as the conductor's voice, urging her 
 thereto, reached her subconsciousness. 
 
 Finally came the blessed moment of the Inser- 
 tion of her latch-key in her own door. As she 
 opened it a feminine voice called, "Billy?" 
 
 "Yes," said Billy, "where are the girls?" 
 
 This was a regular order of business in the 
 Pennington household. Billy rarely entered the 
 house, at any hour of the day or night, that her 
 mother's voice did not greet her with "Billy?" 
 
 And Billy always responded with, "Yes, where 
 are the girls?" unless the girls happened to be 
 with her. 
 
BILLY LISTENS TO CONVERSATION 5 
 
 If Billy were in the house and the latch-key 
 sounded in the lock, her mother always called, 
 "Girls?" And they always responded, "Yes, 
 whereas Billy?" 
 
 Mrs. Pennington always referred to her chil- 
 dren as "Billy and the girls," wherefore some 
 persons supposed she had a son and two daugh- 
 ters. There was a difference of only fourteen 
 months between the ages of "the girls." They 
 hunted in couples. They were rarely separated, 
 and many persons supposed them to be twins. 
 
 They were together now, as usual, when Billy 
 entered the dining room, where one was just low- 
 ering a brown earthen casserole, from which rose 
 a rich and fragrant odor, to its place upon the 
 table, and the other was dishing up pickled 
 peaches. 
 
 "Hurry up and wash your face, Bill," said one 
 of them; "it's all ready." 
 
 Billy disappeared into the bathroom, and when 
 she reappeared her mother was seated behind the 
 coffee urn, with a girl on either hand, under the 
 cheerful glow of the red shaded light. Billy could 
 never face that scene unmoved. She sat down in 
 her own seat and surveyed her assembled family 
 with that look of beaming appreciation which it 
 always evoked from her. 
 
 Mrs. Pennington had eyes for nothing but her 
 face. 
 
 "YouVe tired, Billy," she said instantly, in a 
 
6 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 tone of tender anxiety. Every night her first re- 
 mark was to pronounce upon her eldest daughter*s 
 condition as she perceived it. In addition to the 
 ordinary maternal affection she felt for Billy that 
 solicitude, that respect and consideration, which 
 the home woman feels for the breadwinner of the 
 family, even though her own work may be much 
 harder. 
 
 Mrs. Pennington had been left a widow ten 
 years before. Her husband had died very sud- 
 denly, leaving her nothing but her household fur- 
 niture, a few hundreds in the savings bank, and 
 three children. Billy was i8, "the girls" 14 and 
 13. Billy had just graduated from the city train- 
 ing school for teachers. She immediately took a 
 grade position in the Bartown schools, and be- 
 came the breadwinner for the family of four. 
 Mrs. Pennington made the rent by letting rooms. 
 With every fibre of their being the two older 
 women bent themselves to the task of properly 
 educating the two younger girls. 
 
 They had succeeded. Those were long years 
 and hard ones, years of unremitting toil, close to 
 the edge of penury, ready to topple over into the 
 gulf should either of the older women fall sick 
 or die. But they had succeeded. The girls were 
 now 24 and 23. Both were in good positions, 
 earning good money. The Pennington family, 
 with three salaries coming in instead of one, was 
 floating on the high tide of prosperity. 
 
BILLY LISTENS TO CONVERSATION 7 
 
 Mrs. Pennington said no more until dinner was 
 over. She looked to see Billy, who had had only 
 a cold lunch since morning, brighten up under the 
 influence of warm food. But when the girl still 
 remained downcast she said tenderly : 
 
 "What Is it, Billy? Is something troubling 
 you?'' 
 
 It was the comforting habit of the Penningtons 
 to talk everything over together. No slightest 
 event which concerned one member of the quar- 
 tette lacked interest to the others. They all 
 gathered around now, to find out what was the 
 matter with Billy. 
 
 "It's the same old thing," said Billy, "only it 
 gets worse every day. I don't know what we're 
 going to do. Things are in an awful mess." 
 
 She told them of the scene In the principal's 
 office. 
 
 "It puts an entirely new light on Miss Forrest," 
 she said thoughtfully. "You know we girls at 43 
 haven't known exactly what to think of her. She's 
 a jewel to us, every teacher in the building loves 
 her. And she is a splendid principal and head of 
 a school. But when it came to standing out for 
 some things, we've felt that she wasn't reliable; 
 that she was trying to stand in with the powers 
 that be. We thought she lacked moral fibre." 
 
 "But what is it about these books, anyhow?" 
 asked Edith, the younger of "the girls." 
 
8 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 "Why, this drawing book is a fraud and 
 a fake/' said Billy. "More than that, It's 
 a nuisance. Any teacher who knows anything 
 at all knows that flat drawing is out of date. Any 
 teacher with a grain of sense wants her pupils to 
 draw from objects. That's universally admitted 
 now, in the educational world, and a teacher 
 would have to be a poor dub not to know it. 
 
 "Well, we teachers at 43 held a meeting the 
 first week of school, and voted not to tell the 
 children to get these books. Miss Forrest hesi- 
 tated over this, and back and filled, but finally 
 consented to have nothing said about the books. 
 
 "Things ran along some weeks and then the 
 man that runs the little book store near 43, where 
 all our children buy their books, sent word to 
 know why the children hadn't bought their draw- 
 ing books this year. Miss Forrest sent back word 
 that the teachers felt the books were unnecessary, 
 and were going to try a term without them. She 
 wanted to back down then and send the children 
 right off to get the books, but we bucked her up 
 again, and laughed at the book man's cheek. 
 
 "The next step was Brackett's call, and I hap- 
 pened to overhear his gentle remarks. Now I 
 understand what Miss Forrest is up against. She 
 hasn't told any of us. She was afraid to. She 
 was terrorized." 
 
 "But why do you care so much about the draw- 
 
BILLY LISTENS TO CONVERSATION 9 
 
 ing books?'* said Edith. "I understand that it 
 disgusts you and makes you mad, but what makes 
 you so blue over it?" 
 
 "Because it's part of the whole thing," said 
 Billy soberly. "There's something terrible going 
 on in the schools of Bartown. A vast, rotten 
 graft of some kind. The whole system is per- 
 meated with it. We all know it, but it's hard to 
 get specific instances. And nobody will take it 
 up or move in the matter. If I could only get 
 something definite to go on, I would take it to the 
 papers. The Forum, now, has always been so 
 interested in the schools. I'm sure it would help 
 us. But there's nothing but this vague, blighting 
 influence, that has increased steadily for years 
 past, ever since Brackett was made our district 
 superintendent, in fact. He is one of Dreiser's 
 men. Dreiser put him in after he was made su- 
 perintendent. 
 
 "When I first began to teach, ten years ago, the 
 teachers were regarded as a part of the school 
 system. As the ones who, out of the whole sys- 
 tem, came into daily, hourly contact with the chil- 
 dren, they were consulted, and their opinions lis- 
 tened to with respect. But that's all gone by. The 
 whole trend is now to treat us like factory hands. 
 Any experience or knowledge of the business of 
 teaching which we may have gained in the school- 
 room is not recognized as existing. I can't de- 
 
lO CRAYON CLUE 
 
 scribe the influence to you. It*s a sort of death- 
 in-life atmosphere; deadening and smothering. 
 
 *'The people are suffering from this as well as 
 we. There are about a thousand children in 43. 
 At 20 cents apiece for those drawing books, that's 
 $200 the parents of this one district alone are 
 compelled to make a present of to the Columbian 
 Book Company. With approximately 200,000 
 children in the schools, that's $40,000 annually 
 that the people of Bartown are forced to con- 
 tribute to the Columbian Book Company for one 
 small item, a book that the teachers would throw 
 out if they could. And we could teach the chil- 
 dren to draw a great deal better from apples and 
 chalk boxes and such things. Mrs. Merrill taught 
 us that." 
 
 "Why do you say the Columbian Book Com- 
 pany," queried Ethel, the older girl. 
 
 "Because only the Columbian's books are used 
 in the schools. Dr. Haswell never would have it 
 that way. He would take the textbook that he 
 found best, no matter where he found it. But 
 Mr. Dreiser will have nothing but the Columbian 
 books through the schools. And it was the Colum- 
 bian got Mrs. Merrill out, and she had an inter- 
 national reputation as a teacher of drawing. She 
 was a contributor to the most scholarly educa- 
 tional periodicals, and she was sent for all over 
 the United States and Canada to lecture on draw- 
 
BILLY LISTENS TO CONVERSATION II 
 
 ing in the public schools before teachers* Insti- 
 tutes. She condemned the Columbian books on 
 their merits, and refused to back down. She 
 fought the thing to a finish, and she was dis- 
 charged. The Columbian books, which she had 
 thrown out of the schools, were replaced, and 
 more than that no big city in the country will em- 
 ploy Mrs. Merrill. The Columbian has her black- 
 listed, and has been strong enough to keep her out 
 of any position commensurate with her abilities 
 and reputation. She's teaching in a little one- 
 horse Iowa town which is too small for them to 
 notice, I suppose, for $75 a month. 
 
 "We teachers know that story, but not one 
 word of it ever got in the papers. It just passed 
 over silently, and Mrs. Merrill, one of the best 
 educators we ever had in Bartown, was simply 
 snuffed out. We have no tenure of office. The 
 Board can fire the ablest educator in the city with- 
 out assigning any reason at all. That's what'll 
 happen to me if I don't keep my mouth shut, and 
 it's getting harder to keep it shut every day." 
 
 "Don't keep it shut for that," said Ethel. 
 
 Billy looked quickly at this older of "the girls," 
 clever, brainy young Ethel, who as the private 
 secretary of a financier was today earning the 
 largest salary in the family. 
 
 "I don't want to retire for you girls to support 
 yet a while," said Billy. 
 
 "Don't let that worry you," replied Ethel ; "you 
 
12 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 supported us for quite a number of years, you 
 know." 
 
 "YouVe a brick, Ethel," said Billy, "but I guess 
 it won't come to that just yet." 
 
CHAPTER II 
 
 In Which Billy Tries a Little Detective 
 Work 
 
 SHE was not so sure of it next morning, how- 
 ever. Her class work had hardly begun 
 when the door opened and Brackett, the district 
 superintendent, and Miss Forrest appeared. 
 
 "How many vacant seats have you, Miss Pen- 
 nington?" said Brackett. 
 
 "Ten," she replied. 
 
 He cast his eye round the room. Two sides 
 were pierced with tall windows. But a tall build- 
 ing had been erected nearly against one of these 
 sides, leaving only the other row of windows to 
 light the place. The tier of seats farthest from 
 these windows was the darkest in the room. 
 Therefore Miss Pennington had left it vacant. 
 
 After a brief inspection Mr. Brackett spoke a 
 word to Miss Forrest. She went away, but a 
 few minutes later returned with ten small chil- 
 dren. 
 
 "Take those seats," said Brackett to the chil- 
 dren, in his dull voice, pointing to the vacant 
 row. 
 
 13 
 
14 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 Billy looked on in dumfounded amazement 
 while the ten infants from the third grade climbed 
 on the high seats intended for sixth grade pupils 
 and patiently let down their short legs to dangle 
 in the air. 
 
 The face that she turned upon Brackett evoked 
 a word of explanation from the superintendent. 
 
 "We find there are vacant seats enough in the 
 building to accommodate a whole class," said he 
 in a casual way; "so we are going to fill them and 
 close one classroom." 
 
 "But, Mr. Brackett," ejaculated Billy; "is it 
 possible I am expected to teach these third grade 
 pupils with my sixth grade?" 
 
 "Certainly," said Brackett; "it is only the upper 
 grades, where the pupils begin to drop out of 
 school, that have vacant seats. All the lower 
 grades are full already. Of course it is nonsense 
 to keep an unnecessary room and unnecessary 
 teachers employed when there are plenty of va- 
 cant seats in the building." 
 
 He spoke as if the matter were of no impor- 
 tance whatever, and left the room immediately. 
 Only a teacher can understand the abysmal aston- 
 ishment and indignation which rendered Miss Pen- 
 nington speechless. To have had ten sixth grade 
 pupils added to her room would have been com- 
 paratively a small matter, although ten more 
 children in a class after one already has forty 
 somewhat resemble an inch on the end of a man's 
 
BILLY TRIES A LITTLE DETECTIVE WORK 1 5 
 
 nose ; very small, but rather appalling in just that 
 place. 
 
 But the placing of this small section of a grade 
 far removed from her own in her room seemed 
 to Billy the hallucination of a pipe dream; the 
 fantasy of a maniac. She felt as a clerk at a silk 
 counter might if a consignment of tin dippers were 
 placed on his shelves for him to dispose of. Or 
 a dentist, if a law were passed requiring him to 
 shave all his male patrons. Or an actor playing 
 Hamlet instructed by his manager that he would 
 be obHged to take the part of Ophelia in addition 
 to his own. To a teacher this performance was 
 just as mysterious and maniacal as any of these. 
 
 At the noon hour an excited group of teachers 
 gathered in Miss Forrest's office. The school was 
 in a poor district, in which small children were 
 put to work at the earliest possible age at which 
 they could outwit the labor inspectors, and girls 
 were kept out of school to care for infants too 
 young for the kindergarten. There were three 
 kindergartens in the building, three rooms of the 
 first grade, two each of the second, third and 
 fourth, one each of the fifth, sixth, seventh and 
 eighth. One of the third grade classrooms had 
 been closed, and the teacher discharged. The 46 
 pupils in her room had been distributed through 
 the upper classrooms; six in the fifth, ten each in 
 the sixth and seventh, twenty up in the eighth. 
 The teachers in these four rooms were expected 
 
1 6 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 to keep their own classes up to grade, and also 
 to cover the third grade course for the year with 
 this group of small children. 
 
 By thus throwing four classrooms into con- 
 fusion, adding almost inconceivable difficulties to 
 the work of four teachers, depriving forty-six 
 little third graders of a room and teacher of their 
 own, and the pupils of the four upper classes of 
 the time and attention to which they were en- 
 titled, the school board had saved one salary of 
 $60 a month. 
 
 Miss Forrest did not join in the wild confab 
 of excited teachers. She stood aloof and made 
 brief replies to all their queries. They learned 
 from her, however, that the order was general, 
 though not universal. 
 
 Billy took the printed list of the 300 or more 
 school buildings in Bartown and checked off those 
 in which she knew the change had been made. 
 Then she sat down at the phone, called up the 
 city superintendent's office and had a little talk 
 with the girl at the other end of the phone. 
 
 "Well, Pen, what did you find out?" asked one 
 as she rose. 
 
 "So far as Fve found out," said she, "not a 
 room has been closed in the better residence dis- 
 tricts. They're all in the tenement districts, es- 
 pecially in the poorest.'' 
 
 "Where the children need all the schooling 
 they can get while they're little," said one teacher. 
 
BILLY TRIES A LITTLE DETECTIVE WORK 1 7 
 
 "And where there are no important people to 
 make a row about it/' rejoined Billy. 
 
 Miss Forrest shot a warning glance at her. 
 
 **I shall have to ask you to transfer Alex 
 Michelovitch to the Incorrigible class imme- 
 diately," said Billy to her; ^Tve been hanging 
 onto Alex with both hands to keep him from start- 
 ing in to go to the bad right now. But I can't 
 do it any longer with this fresh ten." 
 
 "Very well," said Miss Forrest briefly; and 
 then added, "If all the teachers who received 
 third grade pupils will stay tonight I will go over 
 the third grade course with them. I must say to 
 you that you will be marked for reappointment 
 and promotion on the standing of your third 
 grade pupils as well as your own grades." 
 
 The four upper grade teachers looked sick, but 
 they did not blame Miss Forrest. They knew it 
 was no policy of hers. As they went through the 
 halls back to their rooms Miss Harcourt, a frail, 
 elderly woman, who taught in the eighth grade, 
 wiped tears from her face. 
 
 "It's been all I could do to keep going with my 
 regular class," she said in a choking voice; "I'm 
 afraid I shall break down now. Oh, Billy, if I 
 do, what shall I do? I haven't any money or 
 any relations." 
 
 She looked at Billy with a haunting fear in her 
 eyes that cut to the heart. 
 
 After her extra hour was over that night Billy 
 
1 8 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 put in another hour and a half In school work. 
 This brought her up to 5.30. When she left the 
 building, instead of going home she sought a flat 
 house in the neighborhood and climbed four 
 flights of stairs to a door having the name Mc- 
 Cann over the bell. The McCanns were among 
 the Irish Americans who still clung to the neigh- 
 borhood, although it was fast filling up with 
 non-English speaking residents. All the McCann 
 youngsters had been to school to Billy at one time 
 or another. All were now employed, and all 
 were shortly due at home for dinner. One after 
 another as they came In greeted Miss Pennington 
 with hilarious joy. 
 
 Billy Pen's great hold In this world was her 
 popularity. Almost everyone who had ever 
 known her liked her, and this was particularly 
 true of her old pupils, now scattered about the 
 city in various wage-earning capacities. She was 
 pre-eminently a good mixer, probably due to the 
 fact that she sincerely thought herself as good as 
 anybody in the world, and not a bit better. Mrs. 
 McCann was delighted to see her. So was Lillle 
 McCann, who worked in a department store.. So 
 was Mary McCann, who was learning the mil- 
 linery trade. So was Johnny McCann, the oldest 
 In the family, who was now a clerk In the little 
 book store near Public School 43. 
 
 John came in last, and they only waited for 
 him to clean up before sitting down to supper. 
 
BILLY TRIES A LITTLE DETECTIVE WORK 1 9 
 
 Billy would much rather have been at home, but 
 she wanted to talk to Johnny McCann, though 
 none of the family had any idea of that. 
 
 "I suppose Mr. White felt pretty good over 
 those drawing books," she remarked after a 
 while. 
 
 "That's right," said Johnny, grinning; "he sort 
 of brought you folks to time over at P. S. 43, 
 didn't he?" 
 
 'That's right," admitted Billy; "how'd he man- 
 age it?" 
 
 "Oh, Hicks fixed that." 
 
 "Who's Hicks?" 
 
 "He's the agent of the Columbian Book Com- 
 pany for Bartown." 
 
 "Oh, shucks I" said Miss Pennington. "You 
 can't make me believe the agent of a big com- 
 pany like that pays any attention to a little store 
 like White's." 
 
 "They don't, eh? Well, now. Miss Penning- 
 ton, there's some things even a schoolma'am don't 
 know. Hicks paid just that much attention that 
 he went to Dreiser, the city superintendent of 
 schools, and Dreiser sent the order over to you 
 folks." 
 
 Miss Pennington shook her flaxen head. 
 
 "You can't make me believe that," said she. 
 
 "Oh, well, now. Miss Pennington, I'll just show 
 you that you don't know it all even if you are a 
 
20 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 schoolma'am/* declared Johnny, laughing loudly 
 at his own wit. 
 
 He pulled a letter from his pocket and gave it 
 to her. It bore a recent date, and contained only 
 a few lines, written by hand on the stationery of a 
 hotel in a little Canadian town. 
 
 "Dear White," it ran, *'I saw Dreiser about the 
 matter of the drawing books at P. S. 43, and it 
 is O. K. He has sent the order to the school to 
 get the books right away. Let me know any other 
 instances of that kind. Yours truly, A. R. Hicks." 
 
 "Why, how did you come to have this letter, 
 Johnny," said Miss Pennington carelessly. 
 
 "For the stamps," said Johnny; "I sell collec- 
 tions of stamps to kids. That's got a Canadian 
 stamp on it. I suppose Mr. Hicks had to go over 
 to Canada, and forgot to telephone before he left. 
 Mr. White threw it in the waste basket, and I 
 picked it out for the stamp." 
 
 Miss Pennington made no further comment, 
 but began to joke Johnny about a certain girl in 
 the neighborhood to whom he was supposed to be 
 very much attached. This, to the McCann fam- 
 ily, was the highest form of wit. Johnny pro- 
 tested blushingly, and the fun became uproarious. 
 While the joy was unconfined Miss Pennington 
 took her departure, overwhelmed with pressing 
 invitations to come again. 
 
 In the car she took the letter out of her bag 
 
BILLY TRIES A LITTLE DETECTIVE WORK 21 
 
 and read it again. She had dropped the envelope 
 under the table. 
 
 "How strange/' she thought, "that I should 
 actually get possession of this just at this time. 
 If I could get a few more documents like this I 
 believe some paper would take it up.'* 
 
CHAPTER III 
 
 In Which Billy's Sympathies Are Deeply 
 Stirred 
 
 THE influence which had been creeping 
 through the Bartown school system, si- 
 lently and slowly, like some noxious but imper- 
 ceptible gas, for three or four years past, seemed 
 to have suddenly acquired speed and energy. 
 
 Within a few weeks seventy-nine classrooms 
 were closed in the city, one in every building out- 
 side the better class sections of the city. It would 
 have seemed wiser to do this gradually, but evi- 
 dently the authorities in charge cared nothing for 
 any feeling aroused. 
 
 In seventy-nine buildings were wearied, dis- 
 turbed, nervous, angry teachers, unavoidably 
 communicating their own overwrought condition 
 to the pupils. The teachers in the buildings un- 
 affected were hardly less indignant than the 
 others, and all were oppressed by a fear of what 
 was to come next. 
 
 Into this boiling caldron of dissatisfaction 
 dropped the new chalk. When Billy reached her 
 room one morning she found new and unfamiliar 
 
 22 
 
BILLYHS SYMPATHIES ARE DEEPLY STIRRED 23 
 
 boxes of crayon placed about. On trying them 
 she found that the light powder of chalk did not 
 flake off them as from the old ones. Some oily 
 substance seemed to have been incorporated with 
 the stuff, which gave it a slightly greasy feel to 
 the touch. 
 
 The first class sent to the board that morning 
 was one in Arithmetic, for their famous ''speed 
 practice" in multiplication. They covered the 
 board with figures. 
 
 Later she endeavored to place on the board a 
 list of questions in history. She rubbed as vigor- 
 ously as possible with the eraser, but was unable 
 to remove the figures entirely. The white sur- 
 face of each came off, but a dull greasy mark re- 
 mained on the board. It required a pressure hard 
 enough to tire her wrist to make her writing stand 
 out white and clear as usual on this background. 
 Later a map was drawn on this space. The words 
 "colonists settled," left over from the history 
 lesson, were dully perceptible in its centre, and 
 under that dim outhnes of figures, like a palimp- 
 sest manuscript. 
 
 By the end of the week Billy was In the most 
 nervous condition she had ever known. She was 
 practically deprived of the use of the blackboard, 
 one of the most important adjuncts of classroom 
 work in the history of schools. This with fifty 
 children in the room, of different grades. The 
 boards were covered with an appalling mass of 
 
24 CRAYON CIUE 
 
 dull, grayish marks, impossible to erase, stretch- 
 ing to the utmost corners, high and low, where 
 the exasperated children had sought a clean space, 
 as yet undimmed by previous writings. It re- 
 quired harder and harder pressure to make fresh 
 writing visible. Lists of questions or sums for 
 arithmetic lessons placed on the board by herself 
 were no longer visible through the room. The 
 poor little third graders looked up at her patheti- 
 cally when sent to the board, for their tiny hands 
 were incapable of producing a pressure which 
 would make their work visible. She had to give 
 up blackboard work entirely for them, although 
 it is enjoyed so keenly by young children. 
 
 The difficulties of teaching, and hence of disci- 
 pline, were increased almost indescribably. At 
 the end of the week the class was more nearly de- 
 moralized than she had ever seen any class of 
 hers before. She was like a tailor set to make a 
 coat with a broken needle; a carpenter required 
 to build a house with nicked tools. 
 
 Friday dragged horribly. It rained furiously, 
 and the children came back after the lunch hour 
 wet through, and sat in their wet clothes all the 
 afternoon. In former years there had been "one 
 session" on rainy days, prolonging the morning 
 session until i o'clock, and then dismissing for 
 the day. But this had been done away with 
 under the new administration, as taking too much 
 time from the school year. There was steam heat 
 
BILLYHS SYMPATHIES ARE DEEPLY STIRRED 25 
 
 in the building, for the weather had been very 
 cold. It was impossible to have the windows open 
 on the one side where air could enter, because the 
 rain blew in violently. So the school sat and 
 steamed in the steam of its own wet clothes all 
 the afternoon. 
 
 On such days it takes a big vitality, a big will 
 power and a high nervous strain on the part of a 
 teacher to hold a class within bounds. As the 
 afternoon drew toward its close Billy's head al- 
 most swam. She had given the order to arrange 
 desks and make ready for the dismissal gong, 
 when suddenly appalling shrieks rang through the 
 building. She flung open the door. The shrieks 
 came from Miss Harcourt's room across the hall. 
 
 All up and down the hall doors were flung open 
 like hers, and startled faces looked forth. In 
 one room the class rose simultaneously and came 
 piHng into the doorway after the teacher. At 
 that instant Brackett, the district superintendent, 
 came out of Miss Harcourt's room. 
 
 **Get back there," he called harshly; "what are 
 you doing at your doors? Get ready for dis- 
 missal." 
 
 He went downstairs and a moment later the 
 gong sounded for dismissal, five minutes before 
 the usual time. Miss Harcourt's class came 
 tumbling out tumultuously, but Brackett came tod- 
 dling back and brought order Into chaos with his 
 
26 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 sharp commands. As the lines disappeared down 
 the stairs he turned to Billy and said savagely: 
 
 "Get in there and look after that fool." 
 
 Even in the confusion of the moment she could 
 have struck him for the tone he used to her. 
 
 She ran across the hall to the eighth grade 
 room. Miss Harcourt was sitting on the edge of 
 her little platform, leaning back against her desk, 
 gibbering. There was nothing else to call it. She 
 was nodding and smiling, and her lips continu- 
 ously formed words, although no sound came 
 from them. She paid no attention to the teachers, 
 who came crowding in, and stood motionless, 
 dazed and horrified at the sight. 
 
 Then the harsh voice of Brackett sounded be- 
 hind them. 
 
 "Well," he said, "you'd better get her home. 
 She seems to have gone crazy." 
 
 At the sound Miss Harcourt gave another of 
 those screams which had startled the building a 
 few minutes before. She sat up rigidly, pointed a 
 shaking finger at Brackett, and uttered shriek 
 after shriek. Billy ran forward and gathered the 
 distraught creature to her breast. 
 
 "There, there, honey," she crooned, like a 
 mother to her child; "there, there, never mind. 
 It's all right now. Now you're going home with 
 me and stay all night. You're going right home 
 with Billy Pen and let Mother Pen take care of 
 you." 
 
billy's sympathies are deeply stirred 27 
 
 Over her shoulder she said, "Phone a cab," and 
 then went on soothing the crazed woman until 
 the cab came. 
 
 They got Miss Harcourt into her wraps and 
 down to the cab. She had fallen into silence, but 
 as she caught a glimpse of Brackett in the office 
 door she shook and moaned. 
 
 "The fool couldn't keep out of sight,*' muttered 
 Billy savagely. 
 
 She got the stricken woman to her own home. 
 As she opened the door her mother's voice called 
 as usual, "Billy?" 
 
 "Yes," said Billy, but for once forgot the girls. 
 
 "Come here, mother," she said. 
 
 Mrs. Pennington appeared, aghast. 
 
 "Miss Harcourt has broken down," said Billy 
 briefly. "Help me to get her to bed." 
 
 Deftly the two women removed the clothing 
 from the stricken woman. Without a question, 
 silently save for gentle, murmured, soothing 
 words, they got her to bed and fed her with hot 
 beef broth, bubbling on the stove for dinner. In 
 the midst of it Miss Forrest came in with a doc- 
 tor. He gave opiates, and the trembling, sobbing 
 woman, who whimpered at times like a beaten 
 dog, sank at last into sleep. 
 
 Then at last they sat down to the dinner which 
 the girls had prepared. Miss Forrest with them. 
 To her Billy, like the rest, turned for explanation. 
 She knew little more than the others. 
 
28 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 "All I could get out of Brackett was that she 
 had gone crazy," said she. 
 
 *'He said that he went to visit her room and 
 that while he was sitting there she suddenly went 
 crazy and began to scream. He said she was a 
 dangerous woman, and it was a wonder she had 
 not killed some child. He said I should have per- 
 ceived her condition before, and had her dis- 
 charged.** 
 
 The principal sat with a gray, stricken look, 
 unable to touch her food. Billy also could eat 
 nothing, but consumed cup after cup of tea, strong 
 and hot. 
 
 "Billy, for mercy's sake,** said her mother anx- 
 iously, "don't drink any more of that tea. You 
 are all strung up now, and you won't sleep a wink 
 tonight.** 
 
 Billy did not seem to hear her. She looked at 
 Miss Forrest and said, "This thing is getting to 
 be Hell.** 
 
 The principal nodded, without speaking. 
 
 "There'll be more explosions and breakdowns," 
 said Billy. 
 
 "I am afraid so," said Miss Forrest, in a hope- 
 less way. 
 
 She went away soon after. She had offered to 
 spend the night and watch with Miss Harcourt, 
 but Mrs. Pennington vetoed that. 
 
 "You look fit for bed yourself," said she. "Go 
 home and stay in bed till Monday morning. I'd 
 
BILLY'S SYMPATHIES ARE DEEPLY STIRRED 29 
 
 keep you here if Miss Harcourt were not here. 
 Billy is going to take a dose of that stuff the 
 doctor left and go to bed too, and I'm going to 
 sleep in Miss Harcourt's room. If she keeps me 
 awake I don't have to get up tomorrow morning. 
 The girls can get up and get breakfast; and I 
 don't have to go to school next Monday morn- 
 mg. 
 
 They yielded, sinking gratefully upon her ma- 
 ternal strength, and the house was soon quiet. 
 
 They tended Miss Harcourt lovingly through 
 Saturday and Sunday. Billy stayed away from 
 her and did the housework. She felt that the sick 
 woman should not be reminded of school, and 
 left her in Mrs. Pennington's motherly care. But 
 on Sunday afternoon the patient called for her. 
 Billy entered the room with eager and painful 
 curiosity. She was immediately relieved. Miss 
 Harcourt lay white and weak, sick and broken. 
 But the hysteria was gone. She was perfectly 
 sane and normal. 
 
 *'Billy," she said weakly, ^Vhy, Billy, what 
 made you stay away?" 
 
 **I thought it might distress you to see me," 
 said Billy gently, kissing her. 
 
 "Oh, no, Billy. I want to talk It over with 
 you. It's all come back to me, and I want to 
 tell you about it. Oh, Billy, how good you've 
 been to me. What should I have done if I'd had 
 to go back to that empty room of mine and spend 
 
30 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 those two days alone? Oh, It's so dreadful since 
 Ella's gone." 
 
 Tears began to slip helplessly down her cheeks. 
 She stretched out her thin white hand to Billy, 
 who sat and smoothed It pityingly. 
 
 "You see, Ella was all I had," said she; "my 
 poor little hunchback sister. She sat In the room 
 all day alone. Her spine pained her almost al- 
 ways. She never could do any work, except a 
 little sewing. And often she couldn't even darn 
 a pair of stockings without suffering. But she was 
 so anxious to do my mending and keep my clothes 
 in order. It distressed her more than anything 
 when she couldn't. She felt It was all she could 
 do for me, and It distressed her so to be a burden 
 on me." 
 
 She cried heartbrokenly. 
 
 "There was hardly anyone at her funeral last 
 summer," she sobbed; "hardly anyone. The poor 
 girl had no friends or acquaintances of her own 
 and the teachers were all scattered for their sum- 
 mer vacation. After all her good, sweet, gentle 
 life there was no one but me and the landlady 
 to see her laid away." 
 
 So she lay and told the sad little story of her 
 life, and Billy's knowledge supplied what she did 
 not tell. All her adult years she had had the 
 hunchback sister to maintain, and she had spent 
 much money for doctor's bills. She reached every 
 September in debt, and had to wait till the end 
 
billy's sympathies are deeply stirred 31 
 
 of the month for her first check of the school year, 
 always owed in full when she got it. Last sum- 
 mer the sister had died, and she had not yet 
 finished paying the funeral bill. She had faced 
 the opening of school worn with grief, overwork 
 and debt. The sister had been her last living 
 relative. She was a woman of good education, 
 an excellent instructor, but of frail physique and 
 nervous temperament. With a small class, under 
 easy conditions, she could teach admirably. 
 
 These she had had for years at school 43, un- 
 der Miss Forrest. The eighth grade was always 
 small in this building. Miss Forrest was kind and 
 considerate, and a good enough teacher herself 
 to appreciate Miss Harcourt's value as an edu- 
 cator. This atmosphere was necessary for suc- 
 cess on Miss Harcourt's part. She was timid and 
 sensitive, shrinking from criticism as from a blow. 
 Blooming gratefully in a kind atmosphere, like 
 some humble flower opening to the sun, she be- 
 came instantly nervous and upset under antagon- 
 ism. 
 
 When twenty children from the third grade had 
 been added to the thirty in her eighth, it had been 
 a staggering blow. The work was too hard for 
 her, that was all. The combined class was too 
 large and difficult for her strength. Then came 
 the chalk — but at mention of the chalk Miss Har- 
 court began to shake again. 
 
 "It was the chalk did it," she cried. "It nearly 
 
32 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 drove me crazy all the week. And then Friday 
 he came in and sat and sat and glowered, and the 
 children were wet and restless and I couldn't use 
 the blackboard, and he made me nervous and they 
 got away from me and began to perform, and then 
 he got up and said: 'Miss Harcourt, I am aston- 
 ished at what I have seen today. You certainly 
 cannot expect reappointment if you cannot disci- 
 pline your class better than this.' Said it right 
 out loud before the children, and some of the 
 eighth grade ones heard him and understood per- 
 fectly, and looked at me and laughed. Then's 
 when I went to pieces and screamed. It seemed 
 to me if that man didn't get out of my sight I 
 should go crazy." 
 
 So this was the explanation. It was that awful 
 Friday, the worst day in the whole year, that 
 Brackett had chosen to spend in the room of a 
 teacher already taxed beyond endurance by un- 
 expected burdens shoved upon her by the school 
 management. And it was his attack, brutal, un- 
 called for, unnecessary, which had driven her 
 over the edge of her self-control. The woman 
 had been living in one small room, cooking her 
 meals over a little gas burner, because of poverty; 
 and this In a profession as nerve-racking, demand- 
 ing as much vitality and magnetism as that of the 
 actor, the lecturer, or anyone else who must con- 
 trol and Interest human beings In the mass. 
 
 Billy went to school very grave and serious 
 
billy's sympathies are deeply stirred 33 
 
 Monday morning. Miss Harcourt had refrained 
 from accompanying her only because she found 
 herself too weak to put on her clothes. 
 
 "Oh, I am so afraid," she had cried pitifully. 
 "After this affair Friday if I don^t show up this 
 morning, they will take my place away from me." 
 
 "Nonsense," said Billy; "you'll get leave of ab- 
 sence, of course. Don't worry about that a min- 
 ute. Miss Forrest will attend to that today." 
 
 And she believed what she said. But when she 
 reached the principal's office she was staggered to 
 find that Miss Harcourt was already discharged. 
 The committee on teachers had held a special 
 meeting Saturday, Brackett had appeared before 
 it, and declared that Miss Harcourt was either 
 insane or on the verge of insanity, and the com- 
 mittee had immediately dropped her from the 
 staff. 
 
 "What! Without allowing her to appear? 
 Without hearing a word in her behalf?" stormed 
 Billy. 
 
 "Yes," said Miss Forrest in a low voice, "even 
 I was not called upon. Mr. Brackett went before 
 the board and testified that it was dangerous to 
 the children to retain her in the schoolroom, and 
 they simply accepted his statement." 
 
 "But she's no more crazy than you or I," said 
 Billy furiously. "She's sick and nervous and needs 
 a long rest. But she is certainly not crazy." 
 
 "No," said the principal, almost in a whisper, 
 
34 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 "but he wants It believed that she Is. He knows 
 he drove her Into hysterics, and he wants to cast 
 her under such a cloud that nothing she can say 
 will ever be beheved." 
 
 This was so much for the careful Miss Forrest 
 to say that It Impressed Billy deeply. 
 
 "But I believe a person could collect damages 
 for being declared insane when they are not.'* 
 
 "How many damage suits do you think Miss 
 Harcourt will bring?" 
 
 "Lawyers will take up damage suits without 
 fees." 
 
 "Against great corporations," said Miss For- 
 rest; "but Brackett Is a school teacher. He's 
 hardly rich enough to tempt a lawyer." 
 
 "And furthermore," said Billy, striding up and 
 down the office, "the school board hired her for a 
 year. They hired her to teach the eighth grade 
 in this building, nothing else. I believe her sal- 
 ary for the rest of the year could be collected If 
 suit were brought, and she went on the stand and 
 showed herself sane, and showed that her break- 
 down had come from work which she never con- 
 tracted to perform being thrust upon her." 
 
 "Who's going to bring suit?" 
 
 "By gum, I'd like to," said Billy between her 
 teeth. 
 
 "Take care, Billy, take care," said Miss For- 
 rest. "Don't get excited over this thing and talk 
 too much. I tell you this man Brackett is danger- 
 
billy's sympathies are deeply stirred 35 
 
 ous. He IS capable of discharging you over my 
 head, although your record is clean as a whistle." 
 
 ''I know," said Billy. She glanced at the clock. 
 
 "It's almost 9," she said. "There are two 
 other things I must speak about. That chalk. 
 Something's got to be done about it. That was 
 the real thing that sent Miss Harcourt off the 
 handle. It'll have us all crazy if it's kept in use." 
 
 "My dear Pen, what can I do?" said the prin- 
 cipal helplessly. 
 
 "All right," said Billy Pen; "if you hear of me 
 doing anything you don't know anything about it. 
 Now, what's to be done with Miss Harcourt? 
 Heaven knows she's welcome at our house, but if 
 she's fired something permanent's got to be done. 
 She's getting old. I don't believe she's got ten 
 dollars in the world." 
 
 Here appeared the Miss Forrest that the 
 teacher of 43 knew and loved. 
 
 "You leave that all to me. Pen," said she 
 heartily. "You've done enough. I'll attend to 
 the whole matter." 
 
 So she did. In the competent, masterly fashion 
 in which she did everything when she was not 
 afraid of the superintendent. She called a teach- 
 ers' meeting that night, explained the situation, 
 and asked for contributions. 
 
 "Miss Pennington will keep Miss Harcourt till 
 she is fit to be moved," she explained. "She will 
 ask no board. That Is her contribution. It Is 
 
36 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 the best place for Miss Harcourt to be, sur- 
 rounded by kind friends and with Mrs. Penning- 
 ton to care for her. But after this breakdown she 
 will need some months of recuperation, with her 
 mind at ease, in order to get thoroughly well. I 
 have in mind just the place for her, the Jackson 
 Sanitarium, over among the mountains. There 
 she can have scientific treatment, baths, diet, rest, 
 amusement and kind care. The regular price is 
 $25 a week, but I believe under the circumstances 
 they will take her for half price. I will arrange 
 all that, and secure her transportation. 
 
 "When she is thoroughly well, we will see 
 whether she can take a position again, or whether 
 we must get her into an old ladies' home." 
 
 "But isn't Miss Harcourt crazy?" asked one of 
 the newer teachers, curiously. 
 
 "That remains to be seen," said the principal 
 smoothly. "She is undoubtedly unfit at the pres- 
 ent time to teach school. After she has had thor- 
 ough treatment it can be seen whether her mind 
 is permanently affected or not." 
 
 Billy's gorge rose. 
 
 "Her mind is no more affected than mine is," 
 said she brusquely. "She's sick, that's all that's 
 the matter with her." 
 
 Miss Forrest went on discussing plans as if 
 Billy had not spoken. The teachers at 43 sub- 
 scribed one hundred dollars. It was not the first 
 time they had gone into their pockets for sick 
 
billy's sympathies are deeply stirred 37 
 
 and superannuated teachers. One broken-down 
 teacher in Bartown had died in the poorhouse. 
 The horror of the story when it became known 
 had established the custom of generosity in these 
 cases. 
 
 After they were alone once more Miss Forrest 
 said: "Billy, you will say what you like about 
 these matters outside, of course. If you wish to 
 risk your own position that's your business. But I 
 ask you out of consideration for me not to speak 
 again as you did today in the meeting." 
 
 "Miss Harcourt isn't crazy, and I won't let 
 anyone say it in my presence," said Billy stub- 
 bornly. 
 
 "Brackett has declared her crazy," said Miss 
 Forrest. "I suppose it's a great satisfaction to 
 you to know that your words will be taken straight 
 to him." 
 
 Billy stared. 
 
 "Don't you know that that girl who asked the 
 question is one of Brackett's girls? He put her 
 in here. He knows everything that goes on in 
 this building. I've long known that some one 
 here was reporting to him privately. I am con- 
 vinced It Is she." 
 
 Billy threw up her hands and clasped them 
 above her head. 
 
 "Spies!" she said. "Spies!" 
 
 "Now you know what you're up against," said 
 the principal. "Be careful." 
 
CHAPTER IV 
 In Which Billy's Temper is Severely Tried 
 
 WILHELMINA PENNINGTON — Mrs. 
 Pennington always excused herself for 
 that name because her husband's name was Wil- 
 liam and she wanted to name their first child 
 after him — Wilhelmina, then, more familiarly 
 known as Billy, also as Bill and Pen, had been 
 nothing but a grade teacher in the Bartown 
 schools all the days of her professional life. She 
 had received no great education, and was distin- 
 guished for nothing except her winning ways and 
 general popularity. Years after, when she had 
 become famous, there was something amusing in 
 the bewilderment of certain old associates, who 
 had known her simply as one of the ruck of or- 
 dinary, unknown grade teachers. Probably the 
 rest of the railsplitters were always puzzled over 
 Abe. 
 
 Billy herself always said that it was old Dr. 
 Haswell who brought her out. The Bartown 
 schools had for twenty-five years been blessed 
 with a superintendent who was the embodiment of 
 all that was best in American manhood; a big, 
 
 38 
 
billy's temper is severely tried 39 
 
 generous, whole-souled man, honest as the sun- 
 shine, with brains enough to always make a com- 
 fortable living for himself and family without any 
 tricks of any kind. 
 
 A good many men in the schools are teachers 
 because they have not the ability to make their 
 way in any other profession. Another considera- 
 ble class teach as a stepping-stone to something 
 better, and step out in a few years, leaving the 
 mossbacks behind. But occasionally there is one 
 who is a born educator. 
 
 This type is not rare among the women teach- 
 ers. Women are at their old, familiar, tradi- 
 tional task in training children. And because of 
 this, and because comparatively few other call- 
 ings have been open to women, and because there 
 is more money in almost any other man's trade, 
 and because a Victorian atmosphere of gentility 
 lingers about teaching as a business for women, 
 the schools have had the pick of a class of women 
 far superior to the men in the profession. That 
 is, the women in the schools compare favorably, 
 in brains and breeding, with the best women out- 
 side the schools. But this is by no means true of 
 the men in the schools compared with the most 
 representative members of their sex in other walks 
 of life. 
 
 But now and then there is a man who is a 
 teacher straight from God; a man who would 
 command respect and a competence in any profes- 
 
40 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 slon, and would probably make more money at 
 anything else than at teaching; but who stays in 
 the schools because he loves the work so well that 
 he can't bear to do anything else. Dr. Haswell 
 had been one of this kind. He was not a special- 
 ist In any line of study — just an all-around well- 
 educated man. But he was a specialist In educa- 
 tion; in the knowledge how to train and inspire 
 children in the mass through the machinery of the 
 public school system. 
 
 This machinery, of course, had Its inherent lim- 
 itations, which he could not overcome. Also his 
 methods were probably somewhat old-fashioned, 
 somewhat strenuously devoted to the three R's, 
 although he met all the new ideas as they came 
 along with an open mind. But the schools were 
 efficient according to the ideals of the day, and 
 more than that under Dr. Haswell the Bartown 
 schools were happy places to be in. 
 
 A happy and cheerful atmosphere pervaded all 
 the classrooms. 
 
 The reason for this was that everybody con- 
 nected with the schools felt that he was treated 
 right. There were of course occasional grudges, 
 but no general sense, of Injustice had ever per- 
 vaded the schools. When Dr. Haswell appointed 
 a man superintendent of a district, he did so be- 
 cause he had confidence in the man and respected 
 him, and he always treated him accordingly. The 
 superintendents, working in this atmosphere, re- 
 
billy's temper is severely tried 41 
 
 fleeted It upon the principals under them, the 
 principals upon the teachers, the teachers upon the 
 pupils. Nobody smarted under a sense of injus- 
 tice. Fair play was the atmosphere of the schools. 
 
 Dr. Haswell was always courteous to every- 
 body. This was not a matter of good manners, 
 though his manners were good. It was the natu- 
 ral expression of an essentially democratic na- 
 ture. Dr. Haswell considered that every human 
 being was entitled to civil treatment as long as he 
 conducted himself decently. Everybody who went 
 to his office on business about the schools was re- 
 ceived politely and kindly. He might not get what 
 he wanted, but he did not go off mad. District 
 superintendents receiving this treatment passed it 
 on down the line. 
 
 Moreover, the old man had had an immense 
 respect for the teaching profession. He never re- 
 garded the teachers as ''employees'' ; or rather he 
 regarded them and himself as co-employees of the 
 public. He had the largest salary in the system, 
 but that was because he held the most responsible 
 position. While the teachers were necessarily 
 subordinate in the management of the schools, he 
 always regarded them as a very important part 
 of the system, because they were the members of 
 it who did the actual teaching. The teachers' 
 meetings were called not merely to afford him or 
 some other man an opportunity to instruct and 
 
42 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 enlighten the teachers, but also to consult the 
 teachers and get their opinions about things. 
 
 The old superintendent had a weakness which 
 he himself recognized and strove against. He 
 hated like the mischief to turn out a teacher, par- 
 ticularly an old teacher, who had nowhere to go 
 and nothing to live on. The one fault of his sys- 
 tem was its tendency to get clogged with old teach- 
 ers, past their usefulness, whom he hadn't the 
 heart to drop. He was one of the first men in 
 the country to advocate a teachers' pension sys- 
 tem, not so much for the sake of the teachers as 
 the schools ; because of the natural decency of the 
 human heart, which shrinks from depriving an 
 educated man or woman, who has given a life- 
 time of faithful service to the public, of his only 
 means of livelihood. 
 
 With this kind of man at the head the system 
 became filled with the same kind of people. Con- 
 siderate, fair-minded people ran the schools. 
 While the committee on teachers of the board of 
 education hired the teachers for a long period of 
 years, it never made an appointment not recom- 
 mended by Dr. Haswell. Once, in later years, 
 there had been an effort in the board of education 
 to remove Dr. Haswell. But the attempt created 
 such an uproar throughout the city that it was 
 dropped in the manner of a man who has in- 
 advertently grasped a hot poker. So things had 
 
billy's temper is severely tried 43 
 
 gone on, with everybody satisfied, for twenty-five 
 years. 
 
 Then Dr. Haswell died, and in his place the 
 board appointed Dreiser, widely heralded as an 
 up-to-date man, an exponent and exemplar of the 
 last note of modernity in the gospel of efficiency. 
 Things had gone on much the same the first year. 
 The only marked change was the Immediate adop- 
 tion of the Columbian Book Company's publica- 
 tions throughout the schools. At the end of the 
 year, when certain members of the force dropped 
 out, as always happens, Dreiser's people were put 
 in their places. A bunch of the older teachers 
 were dropped also, on the ground that they had 
 passed their usefulness. Some of the cases were 
 rather piteous, and in others it hardly seemed as 
 if the younger and more agile persons put In their 
 places had Increased the efficiency percentage. 
 But the Forum editorial, pointing out in a con- 
 siderate and dignified way, that personal consid- 
 erations must always give way to the welfare of 
 the schools as a whole, sufficiently expressed the 
 attitude of the public. 
 
 At the end of Dreiser's second year wholesale 
 changes were made. Nearly half of the old dis- 
 trict superintendents and principals were dropped, 
 and Dreiser's appointees put in. The change In 
 the whole atmosphere of the schools this year was 
 so marked that those jteachers who happened to be 
 left under one of Dr. Haswell's old principals felt 
 
44 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 thankful. Numerous changes were made also in 
 the teaching staff, and no teacher felt any longer 
 that her position was secure, or that any service 
 of hers in the schoolroom could make it secure. 
 
 The next September was the one with which 
 the present story opens, and the adventures with 
 drawing books and chalk herein related illustrate 
 Its tendencies. 
 
 Billy Pen had grown up under Dr. Haswell*s 
 square deal regime. She always said in later years 
 that that was the secret of her rise to fame. As 
 there were many teachers whom it did not affect 
 In the same way, It may be surmised that Billy's 
 personality had something to do with the matter. 
 A kind of panic had spread through the schools. 
 There had been of course great dissatisfaction 
 over the numerous discharges of the second year 
 of the Dreiser reign. But the complaints of a 
 discharged person never influence the public 
 much. And the old Haswell element in the 
 schools said nothing, made no move. They were 
 terrorized. Mrs. Merrill, Indeed, the superin- 
 tendent of drawing. In the old, fearless, Inde- 
 pendent Haswell way, had condemned the Colum- 
 bian drawing books. She had stood to her guns, 
 and she had been defeated and discharged. The 
 calm displacement of a woman standing so high In 
 the whole teaching profession had been a warn- 
 ing. 
 
 This was the situation which had been depress- 
 
billy's temper is severely tried 45 
 
 ing Billy more and more throughout the fall. 
 She, like the rest, was affected by the vague at- 
 mosphere of terror that pervaded the schools. 
 She had not the faintest conception of herself as 
 the leader of a crusade. She knew next to noth- 
 ing of public affairs. But the events culminating 
 in Miss Harcourt's breakdown determined her 
 that somebody should do something; and as no 
 one else would, she must. 
 
 Terrible as Miss Harcourt's disaster was, with 
 hard logic Billy saw that the chalk was more ter- 
 rible still. That was the cause of the disaster, 
 and was the cause of conditions throughout the 
 schools of which this disaster was merely an acute, 
 example. Moreover, Billy was inclined to con- 
 sider Miss Forrest a rather ineffective person, and 
 with a naive conceit thought that perhaps the 
 presentation of the matter by a more direct and 
 forceful personality might have more weight. 
 
 So the next day she wore her Sunday frock to 
 school, and as soon as school was out primped be- 
 fore the looking-glass in her cloak room, and set 
 off for the office of her district superintendent. 
 
 Her Sunday gown was a coat and skirt of 
 golden brown corduroy, with a blouse of golden 
 brown satin, and a hat of golden brown velvet 
 with a drooping brown feather. The effect of 
 all this with her golden hair and brown eyes was 
 quite ravishing. 
 
 Billy Pen had a small, oval face, a smart little 
 
46 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 chin, a sweet little mouth which smiled infec- 
 tiously, and a creamy complexion. All this sounds 
 like a person who would marry young. But Billy 
 had been much too busy to even think of getting 
 married while she was raising her family, and 
 now that they were raised and settled the custom 
 of not marrying seemed to have become a fixed 
 habit with Billy Pen. 
 
 Miss Pennington did not thus don her good 
 clothes so much with the hope of influencing her 
 superior In office as for their effect upon her own 
 feelings. 
 
 "Glad rags do give you so much self-respect," 
 she remarked as she turned away from the mir- 
 ror. 
 
 "Why, Delia Perkins," said she to the office 
 girl, as she entered Brackett^s office; "how do you 
 do ? Who ever knew you were here ? I'm awfully 
 glad to see you." 
 
 A smile illumined Miss Perkins' face. She was 
 an old pupil of Miss Pennington's, and the cor- 
 dial greeting pleased her. 
 
 "Hadn't seen her for eight years," she re- 
 marked to her folks at home that night. "She's 
 had hundreds of different kids since then, but 
 there she was, same old Miss Pennington, and 
 'tain't 'zif I could do anything for her, or she 
 could get anything out of me. She's all right." 
 
 Miss Pennington chatted for a few minutes 
 with her approving ex-pupil, and then, upon re- 
 
billy's temper is severely tried 47 
 
 ceivlng an invitation to do so, advanced with 
 modest confidence into the inner office. She was 
 not used to being snubbed. She could count on 
 one hand all the times in her life that people had 
 been rude to her. Consequently, fortified as she 
 was by her glittering apparel, she was surprised 
 to have the superintendent let her stand by the 
 desk, while he went on writing without looking up 
 or speaking. 
 
 When he did finally glance at her he neither 
 bowed, smiled nor asked her to be seated. He 
 merely said frigidly, 
 
 "You wished to see me?" 
 
 Billy was not even sure that he knew her. 
 Taken aback she began hesitatingly, *'I don't 
 know that you remember me, Mr. Brackett '' 
 
 "I know you quite well," he interrupted. "What 
 do you want?" 
 
 Billy's lips grew firm. 
 
 "I want to tell you, Mr. Brackett," said she, 
 "that I think some one actually engaged in class- 
 room work should tell you the effect of this new 
 chalk. It is destroying " 
 
 "How long have you been in the schools?" he 
 interrupted. 
 
 "Ten years," said Billy. 
 
 "And you don't know yet," said he, "that in all 
 matters pertaining to classroom work the proper 
 course for the teacher is to consult with the prin- 
 cipal?" 
 
48 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 "I have consulted her and 
 
 "Very well," he cut In, "then what are you here 
 for? You must know you have no business here." 
 
 "It*s my business as a teacher In the Bartown 
 schools to protest against that chalk," said Billy, 
 hurrying the words out before he could interrupt 
 her. 
 
 He surveyed her In cold astonishment. 
 
 "I wonder how the schools of Bartown have 
 been run In the past," said he. "Fd really like 
 to know. You teachers seem to think youVe in a 
 district school at Smith's Four Corners. If you 
 don't learn your places before the new manage- 
 ment gets through with you I miss my guess." 
 
 He touched his desk button, and to the girl who 
 came said, 
 
 "Miss Perkins, show this person out." 
 
 To Billy came a taste of that humiliation which 
 had been dealt out to Miss Harcourt a few days 
 before. Delia Perkins was an old pupil of hers. 
 It was not pleasant to be ordered off the premises 
 in her presence. She went without a word, so hot 
 with rage that she did not dare trust herself to 
 speak. 
 
 She walked long and fast through the chill au- 
 tumn air. She was deeply, furiously angry, and 
 could not have sat still in a car. As she walked, 
 she thought. Billy was not a conceited person. 
 Long years of hard sledding had taken all that 
 out of her. But she knew that a good-looking 
 
billy's temper is severely tried 49 
 
 young woman who smiles nicely and speaks pret- 
 tily Is not often greeted boorishly, even by boors. 
 Billy knew well enough that she was not unpleas- 
 ant to the eye, but she knew still better that she 
 had a remarkable knack at getting on with peo- 
 ple. Harassed street car conductors and haughty 
 salesladies were nice to Billy. It was family his- 
 tory how she had once managed an intoxicated 
 lodger, who let himself in with his latch-key and 
 started to roughhouse the place. 
 
 She had by definite experience gained a pro- 
 found respect for the Influence of beauteous dress 
 upon the male mind, for she had ridden on the 
 street cars every school day for ten years, and had 
 found that when she had on good clothes men 
 gave her a seat, and when she had not they didn't. 
 
 "Brackett didn't wait for me to irritate him," 
 she murmured; ''he was looking for trouble when 
 I went in. Now, what's the reason he jumped on 
 me so hard? Anyhow, I'll go to his boss and find 
 out.'' 
 
 She boarded a car which in a few minutes 
 landed her at the Board of Education building, in 
 which the city superintendent had his office. 
 
 The office boy requested her name. After 
 taking it in he came back with the request that she 
 state her business. She pondered over it a few 
 minutes, and then wrote a little note. 
 
 "E. H. Dreiser, Superintendent of Schools, 
 Dear Sir,'' It ran, "may I not see you for just a 
 
50 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 few moments? My only excuse for asking this is 
 that, in continuous contact with the children as I 
 am, I cannot help seeing that my work is being 
 injured by the new chalk. It is not merely the 
 trouble and Inconvenience to myself. It would be 
 my business to stand that If it were for the good 
 of the scholars. But I know that it is a detriment 
 to the children themselves. Please let me tell you 
 about it. I feel that only one who Is using, or 
 trying to use, the chalk every Instant can fully 
 appreciate the harm it is doing." 
 
 She signed this and sent It In. In two minutes 
 the boy was back. 
 
 "He says," said the boy, with a subtle Inso- 
 lence In his manner, "that all communications con- 
 cerning school supplies must come through regu- 
 lar channels." 
 
 So again Billy left, with the same feeHng of 
 having been Insulted In the presence of a subordi- 
 nate that she had experienced an hour before. 
 
 She made her way home vicious with wrath. 
 
 "The ^regular channels' are my principal and 
 district superintendent," she remarked; "excellent 
 people to complain to. Well, I'll take It to the 
 Association and see what they say." 
 
 The Bartown Teachers' Association had a 
 meeting due a few days later. There were all 
 manner of teachers' meetings In Bartown; meet- 
 ings of the teachers in each building, of the teach- 
 ers in each district, grade meetings, In which all 
 
BILLYS TEMPER IS SEVERELY TRIED 5 1 
 
 the teachers of the same grade in the city came to- 
 gether, and general meetings in which the whole 
 vast teaching body of the city was called to meet. 
 
 But these were meetings called by the school 
 management. The Bartown Teachers' Associa- 
 tion was a different affair; an organization of the 
 grade teachers themselves for their own benefit. 
 Principals and superintendents were not admitted. 
 There were only a few men in the grades, and 
 they had never joined, perhaps through a lone- 
 some feeling in so vast a concourse of women. 
 
 Dr. Haswell had inspired the organization of 
 this Association. He would not organize it, or 
 even be present at the organization meeting. But 
 he urged it upon the teachers. 
 
 "Organize, organize," he used to say; ''have 
 your own parliament. Keep out the principals 
 and superintendents, let the high school teachers 
 organize by themselves ; but you organize and dis- 
 cuss everything that in your opinion concerns 
 yourselves or your grades. Then when any ques- 
 tion comes up we can get the official opinion of 
 the whole grade staff, discussed and arrived at by 
 yourselves, without any overseers present." 
 
 This association had undertaken a few years 
 before to incorporate a benefit fund for sick and 
 superannuated teachers. Some hundreds of the 
 teachers had taken out policies, they had given a 
 great fair, which netted $10,000 for the fund, 
 
52 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 and all this work had created a feeling of soli- 
 darity in the body. 
 
 The new management frowned upon the or- 
 ganization. No effort had been made to prohibit 
 it, perhaps because it is difficult to prohibit a vol- 
 untary organization, entirely separated from the 
 schools, perhaps because it had not offended in 
 any way. But various appointees of Superintend- 
 ent Dreiser had been known to make sneering re- 
 marks. 
 
 Billy attended the meeting of this Association 
 the following Saturday afternoon, and made her 
 first speech. She had, indeed, spoken in the course 
 of business discussion on the floor many times, 
 much to her own development and education. But 
 this was her first set speech, carefully prepared 
 beforehand. Afterwards, when Miss Pennington 
 became one of the most famous speakers of her 
 day, certain Bartown teachers were fond of telling 
 how they heard her first speech. 
 
 The subject of her discourse was "Chalk." 
 
 She played under and over and around that 
 chalk, with lightning flashes of humor and pathos; 
 with scintillations of grief and wrath ; with corus- 
 cations of righteous indignation; with aurora bo- 
 realis of burning, white-hot description. She 
 painted pictures of geography, grammar, history 
 and arithmetic lessons in layers on the boards, 
 with a brush made out of a comet's tail. It 
 
BILLY'S TEMPER IS SEVERELY TRIED 53 
 
 seemed impossible that any language could be so 
 emphatic without profanity. 
 
 Last of all she told the story of the broken 
 Miss Harcourt; the sad and miserable story of 
 her life; the sad and miserable story of its latest 
 catastrophe, with words that brought tears to her 
 audience. Here and there she saw them dripping 
 down. There was no question but that Miss Pen- 
 nington had held her audience. Welcoming her 
 with indulgent smiles, for Billy usually made them 
 laugh when she got up to speak, they had grown 
 still and white and hot as she lashed them with 
 fiery words that seared raw wounds from which 
 they all were suffering. 
 
 The outcome was a motion that the Bartown 
 Teachers' Association should formally protest to 
 the Board of Education against the chalk now in 
 use in the schools. Billy read a resolution to that 
 effect. 
 
 "I move. Madam Chairman," she said, "I 
 move the adoption of this resolution, and that it 
 be officially communicated to the Board of Educa- 
 tion, and copies forwarded to each of the daily 
 papers of Bartown." 
 
 She sat down; there was a rustle and stir all 
 through the room. The assembly seemed ready 
 to put it through with a rush. Anything better 
 calculated to stampede a convention than Billy's 
 speech would be hard to find. 
 
54 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 "You have heard the motion," said the presi- 
 dent; "are there any remarks?" 
 
 Apparently there were no remarks. 
 
 "Are you ready for the question?" said the 
 chair, hesitatingly. 
 
 Then at the last moment a member rose. She 
 was one of the older teachers, one of those who 
 had cried at the story of Miss Harcourt; a mem- 
 ber known to be remarkably efficient in committee 
 work, but no speaker. 
 
 "Madam Chairman," she said vaguely, "I — 
 
 I " she hesitated, looked at Billy and then 
 
 burst out, "Oh, Billy! what's the use?" 
 
 There was another stir and rustle through the 
 room. Everyone knew what she meant. 
 
 "Madam Chairman," said the teacher, "you all 
 know what I mean. Every word Billy Pen says 
 Is true, and she's a dear child and we all love her, 
 but what's the use of her getting us all worked up 
 like this? She knows, and we know, that this 
 resolution won't remove the chalk if the manage- 
 ment has decided to keep It, and It's dangerous. 
 We may lose our positions by passing it." 
 
 This faltering little speech, strange to say, was 
 stronger than all Billy's eloquence. The Associa- 
 tion agreed with every word Billy said, but re- 
 fused to pass her resolution. 
 
 "Then we accept the factory hand system of 
 education," stormed Billy. "We resign Dr. Has- 
 well's principle that the teachers are a part of the 
 
billy's temper is severely tried 55j 
 
 school system and their findings should have an 
 effect upon its policy. We acquiesce in a thing 
 which we know is an injury to the schools and an 
 outrage upon the children, because we are cow- 
 ards and afraid of our jobs." 
 
 "Sure," said a voice behind her. 
 
 Some one jumped up and moved to adjourn, 
 and the meeting adjourned without voting upon 
 her resolution at all. 
 
 Then the adjourned meeting swept up around 
 Billy and gave her an ovation. 
 
 "Oh, clear out, all of you," she snapped; "pack 
 of female Judases, you. Knock out my resolution 
 and then come around kissing me." 
 
 She found, however, that a few more such de- 
 feats would spell victory. The Association was 
 with her in sympathy, restrained only by practical 
 considerations. They sat and talked a long time, 
 and she came to the conclusion that, despite the 
 reign of terror, her resolution would have had a 
 good chance to pass had the meeting felt that it 
 would do any good. But they saw no sense in 
 running a totally useless risk. 
 
 "But they couldn't fire the whole bunch of us," 
 expostulated Billy; "nobody fires 1,500 teachers 
 in a bunch. And I wanted to get it In the papers. 
 If this Association passed such a resolution the 
 papers would surely have to notice it. Then we 
 could let them Interview us and get it before the 
 people that way." 
 
S6 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 A shrill feminine groan went up in chorus. 
 
 "Interviewed I Who'll have the honor of be- 
 ing interviewed first and getting fired the day 
 after," they scoffed. 
 
 "Yes," said Billy hotly, "and don't you see it 
 goes way back of this chalk? It goes back to 
 tenure of office. We have no tenure of our posi- 
 tions. Therefore we have lost the rights of 
 American citizens. We have neither free speech 
 nor free press. And for that when things are done 
 that are injuring the whole school system we don't 
 dare open our mouths." 
 
 "It doesn't matter when you have the right 
 man for superintendent," said one. 
 . "Yes, it does," said Billy, with a flash of in- 
 sight; "benevolent autocracy is the worst kind, 
 because you're contented with it. You may have 
 a Haswell over you, but you never know. It's 
 up to us to establish our rights as a teaching 
 body." 
 
 There was silence in the big group around her. 
 
 "But what can we do about it, Billy?" asked 
 one of the younger teachers seriously. 
 
 "We've got to agitate. We've got to get this 
 thing before the people some way. Our cause is 
 theirs. To just that extent that our work is ham- 
 pered their children are injured. But there's no 
 way to get the situation to the people except 
 through the newspapers." 
 
 "I'm sorry for the dear people, then," re- 
 
billy's temper is severely tried 57 
 
 marked the same voice which had said *'Sure" in 
 the meeting. 
 
 "Well, how would you get it to them then?" 
 demanded Billy, turning to the woman. 
 
 "Tell 'em," said the woman laconically. 
 
 "How can you tell a million people any- 
 thing except through the newspapers?" scoffed 
 Billy. 
 
 "Anybody that can gab like you can tell *em 
 anything," replied the woman dryly. She was an 
 Irish Catholic girl, named McPike, not very well 
 known in the Association. 
 
 Billy went home defeated, but aware that she 
 had hundreds of friends and well wishers in the 
 Association, who would rally to her support the 
 moment she had anything to propose which ap- 
 pealed to them as having even a chance of being 
 efficacious. All the old free democratic spirit de- 
 veloped under Dr. Haswell was alive in the Asso- 
 ciation, intensified and embittered by the Dreiser 
 regime, but suppressed through prudence and the 
 inability to see any remedy. 
 
 "O Lord," breathed Billy, "just let me find 
 some way to get back at this gang, and those girls 
 will follow me even if they are afraid of their 
 jobs. Just show me how to get one good crack 
 at these monkeys, and they'll follow like the boys 
 that go into battle when they're scared stiff at the 
 bullets." 
 
58 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 She racked her brain, but could devise no ex- 
 pedient by which she might bring the school au- 
 thorities of Bartown to disaster. It seemed a 
 large job, and the way seemed blocked before her. 
 
CHAPTER V 
 
 In Which Billy Acquires Her First 
 Disciple 
 
 THE next day was Sunday, and it rained. 
 Billy joyfully arrayed herself in a large 
 soft blue wool wrapper, lay upon her bed and dic- 
 tated to Ethel, who always kept a private type- 
 writer at home. 
 
 There are advantages in having a sister who 
 is private secretary to a great financier. Billy 
 was able to send out the extremely formal letters 
 which she was preparing in as resplendently ele- 
 gant shape as any malefactor of great wealth 
 could have done. 
 
 She wrote first to the chairman of the commit- 
 tee on school supplies of the Board of Education, 
 and to the president of the Board. She gave a 
 plain, straightforward description of the difficul- 
 ties and injuries introduced into her work by the 
 chalk. Then she wrote an account of the whole 
 business, and had enough carbon copies made to 
 furnish one to each of the daily papers in Bar- 
 town. 
 
 After she had read them all she lay thinking. 
 59 
 
6o CRAYON CLUE 
 
 "I think It IS probably perfectly useless to send 
 them," she said to Ethel, "but I can't think of 
 anything else to do. It's the logical step to take 
 next, but I can't see any step after that. If this 
 doesn't start anything I'm up against a blank 
 wall" 
 
 The doorbell rang and Edith came in. 
 
 "It's that little Perkins girl that used to go to 
 school to you," she announced. 
 
 "Oh, Delia Perkins? Show her right in." 
 
 "Ah ha, there! 'Miss Perkins, show this per- 
 son out,' " she chanted as the little stenographer 
 came in. "Did you come up here to gloat over 
 your former tyrant in disgrace?" 
 
 "You never were a tyrant to me, Miss Pen- 
 nington," said Miss Perkins seriously. 
 
 "Well, that's nice of you to say so. Delia, 
 this is my little sister Ethel. A head taller than 
 I am, so disrespectful of a little sister. You don't 
 mind if I lie on the bed in my wrapper, do you?" 
 
 "Certainly not, Miss Pennington," said Delia in 
 the same serious, formal way. 
 
 Then she drew a small slip of commercial let- 
 terhead out of her handbag. 
 
 "I thought perhaps you would like to see this," 
 she remarked sedately, handing it over. 
 
 Billy Pen glanced at it carelessly, then slowly 
 rose to a sitting posture, one hand grasping her 
 lovely tousled locks, while the other held the pa- 
 per before her staring eyes. It was a receipted 
 
BILLY ACQUIRES HER FIRST DISCIPLE 6 1 
 
 bill from a school supply company to Superintend- 
 ent Dreiser. 
 
 "E. H. Dreiser, Board of Education Building, 
 Bartown," it read. "To Northwestern School 
 Supply Co. Dr. To 40,000 boxes school crayon 
 at I7>^ cents a box, $7,000; Rebate to H. O. 
 Dreiser 5 cents a box $2,000; balance due $5,000. 
 Received Payment, Northwestern School Supply 
 Co." — the signature being in the official stamp of 
 the company. 
 
 "Well, what do you think of that?" breathed 
 Billy, handing it to Ethel. 
 
 "What does this mean?" she asked the Perkins 
 girl. 
 
 "Why, it means," replied that individual in her 
 precise way, "that Superintendent Dreiser gets a 
 rebate of five cents a box on every box of chalk 
 used in the Bartown schools." 
 
 "Why, good heavens, there must be millions 
 of them," muttered Billy dazedly. 
 
 "Yes," said the Perkins girl calmly; "it's a 
 good graft. This is only the first order. Dreiser 
 made the deal with the Northwestern people be- 
 fore school was out last spring. But there was 
 a quantity of old chalk on hand that had to be 
 used up. The Northwestern offered him this re- 
 bate if he would get their chalk introduced into 
 the schools. But they more than make up the dif- 
 ference. The old chalk was only four cents a 
 box." 
 
62 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 "But for the love of Mike," cried Billy, 
 "doesn't the committee on supplies order the sup- 
 plies for the schools?" 
 
 "They're supposed to," said Miss Perkins, 
 "and they're responsible. But the way It really 
 works Is that the committee, or the board. In- 
 structs Mr. Dreiser to purchase the supplies. 
 Then that order stands on the records and Is Mr. 
 Dreiser's authorization." 
 
 "But won't the Board notice the awful differ- 
 ence In the price?" demanded Billy excitedly. 
 "Will they let him skip from four to seventeen 
 and a half cents a box without Inquiry?" 
 
 "Oh, they ordered it," said Miss Perkins. 
 
 "Ordered It I" 
 
 "Yes, he told them the dust from the old chalk 
 gave the children tuberculosis." 
 
 "Tuberculosis!" chanted Billy. "Oh, Gee I 
 what tender solicitude for the health and welfare 
 of the dear little children I What noble workers 
 in the crusade against the Great White Plague I 
 Soldiers of the Common Good! O Lord!" 
 
 "Yes," said the Perkins girl placidly, "he had 
 a doctor up before the Board to tell them about 
 the Injury of the air filled with the flying particles 
 of chalk, and he showed them the difference be- 
 tween the old soft flaky chalk and this greasy 
 stuff. Cromer, the chairman of the committee on 
 supplies, said they ought not to hesitate when the 
 
BILLY ACQUIRES HER FIRST DISCIPLE 63' 
 
 health of thousands of children was at stake, and 
 the Board gave the order for the change." 
 
 "Depths beyond depths," said Billy. 
 
 She lay and reflected, her eyes glued to the re- 
 ceipted bill. Two thousand dollars rebate on that 
 one bill alone. Two thousand dollars of the tax- 
 payers' money into Dreiser's pocket, the pocket 
 of a man with $7,000 a year salary. Four class- 
 rooms in one building thrown into maddening con- 
 fusion in order to turn out one girl and save a 
 salary of $60 a month. 
 
 Billy sat up and passed one hand stupidly to 
 and fro across her forehead. 
 
 "I can't take it in," she said; "why did they 
 close seventy-nine grade classes this year? Have 
 they got to graft all that too?" 
 
 "Well, it's partly that," said Miss Perkins, "it 
 makes more to graft, and then it's partly so there 
 won't be such a rise in the expense of the schools. 
 They don't want to show that too plainly. The 
 closing of those rooms saves about $6,000 a 
 month. That makes quite a showing." 
 
 "But how," queried Billy, "has this all come 
 about so suddenly? How have they managed to 
 grab the whole school system all in a bunch?" 
 
 "Dr. Haswell got it all ready for them," de- 
 posed Miss Perkins. 
 
 "Do you mean to say anything against Dr. Has- 
 well?" demanded Billy, her eyes flashing. 
 
 "No, it's just the other way around," said Miss 
 
64 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 Perkins. "It was because he was so perfectly 
 square and straight that he got it all in shape for 
 them. Dr. Haswell always bought all the sup- 
 plies for twenty-five years. Bartown was quite a 
 small city thirty years ago when he began that, 
 and he simply kept it up. Everybody had perfect 
 confidence in him, and nothing he ever did or said 
 was ever questioned. That got things all ready 
 for Dreiser to do the same. But Dr. Haswell 
 never had the school buildings. There was al- 
 ways graft in them." 
 
 "How?" 
 
 "Oh, the building committee had charge of 
 erecting all the school buildings, and there's been 
 graft in every one built for years back. Perhaps 
 there always was. The money appropriated for 
 any building out of the school treasury was never 
 all put into that building." 
 
 "And Dr. Haswell let that go on?" 
 
 "No, he didn't know anything about it. He 
 never paid any attention to the buildings except 
 to ask that certain features that he thought good 
 for the schools should be incorporated in them. 
 He never paid any attention to the business end 
 of the school system. His mind was fixed on the 
 educational side. After a while they saw the 
 graft that was possible in the buying of the 
 school supplies, and they tried to get him out. 
 But the people wouldn't have it." 
 
BILLY ACQUIRES HER FIRST DISCIPLE 6^ 
 
 "Do you mean to say that was the reason of 
 that attempt?" cried Billy. 
 
 "Sure," said Miss Perkins. "They knew bet- 
 ter than to ever say rebate to him. They knew 
 he wouldn't stand for It, and they were afraid to 
 put him on for fear he'd tell It. And the graft- 
 ing In the buildings got bigger, and they were 
 always afraid he'd get onto that. So they tried to 
 put him out. They said he was the best of men 
 and deservedly beloved by all classes of citizens, 
 but that he was an old man now, and old-fash- 
 ioned In his methods, and the schools needed new 
 blood." 
 
 "Yes," said Billy, thinking intently, "the 
 Forum said that very thing In Its editorials at the 
 time." 
 
 "Well, the people made such an uproar, and 
 made it so quick and hard, that that was dropped. 
 But when Dr. Haswell died, all the authority that 
 had gravitated Into his hands in twenty-five years 
 passed to this man Dreiser, and he began to use 
 It Immediately to graft on supplies. The Colum- 
 bian Book Company got him appointed here. 
 They pulled all kinds of strings In Bartown for 
 that. And of course he put In their books first 
 thing." 
 
 "Does he get It all? Doesn't the committee on 
 supplies get any?" 
 
 "It must," said Miss Perkins thoughtfully. 
 "Cromer, chairman of the committee, must be In 
 
66 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 on It all. Dreiser must have to divvy everything 
 with him. But I have no proof. I've got noth- 
 ing to go on except just the kind of man Cromer 
 is. He's just a common, ordinary ward heeler 
 that the mayor appointed there. What interest 
 has he in the schools? He's one of those that take 
 charge of the dirty work in every campaign, the 
 buying and repeating and skullduggery generally.** 
 
 **rve heard that he can't read writing," said 
 Billy. 
 
 'Writing I" said Delia; *'he can't read read- 
 ing!" 
 
 "The president of the Board, he's a leading 
 citizen," she went on; *'and so's the chairman of 
 the committee on teachers. The people round 
 about town that are interested in the schools and 
 take some notice of education, they always notice 
 who's put in those two places. But the chairmen 
 of the committee on supplies and the committee 
 on buildings — the people never think about them. 
 But those are the officers the politicians want." 
 
 *'Well, if the chairman of the committee on 
 teachers is such a leading citizen, I think it's queer 
 he'll submit to having all those classes closed in 
 that awful way," said Billy. 
 
 "He owns the biggest department store in Bar- 
 town," said Delia. "Julius Klein, you know. 
 He's a business man. He's always talking about 
 giving the schools a business administration. Effi- 
 ciency; stopping waste and leaks, he's always talk- 
 
BILLY ACQUIRES HER FIRST DISCIPLE 67 
 
 ing about that. When Dreiser goes to him and 
 shows him all the vacant seats scattered around 
 through the rooms and says they might just as well 
 be filled, he thinks that's fine. He can't see any 
 more sense in keeping a teacher when her schol- 
 ars could be seated in the other rooms than he 
 could in keeping three clerks at a counter when 
 two were enough to do the work. Chopping off 
 those seventy-nine rooms saves the schools $6,000 
 a month. He thinks that's great, and he thinks 
 Dreiser's a great man. He looks at him as he 
 would at a department store manager that had 
 cut down the expense bill $6,000 a month. Why, 
 if Dreiser was to be fired from the schools, I be- 
 lieve Klein would put him in manager of his 
 store.'* 
 
 Billy lay lost in thought. 
 
 *'Why, as for that," said she slowly, "they 
 could run the schools by department store labor. 
 They could take girls from behind the notion 
 counters at $5 a week and put them in the class- 
 rooms. They could get pauper labor out of the 
 poor house, if the only object Is to save money 
 and keep down expenses." 
 
 "They wouldn't dare do that yet a while," ob- 
 served Miss Perkins, with perfect seriousness. 
 
 Billy stared. 
 
 "Do you really think they'd ever try it?" she 
 demanded. 
 
 "I don't know why not," said the other, "if 
 
68 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 things go on the way they're going now. Only 
 that's something the people could see. This other 
 thing Is all hidden from them. They don't know 
 what's going on." 
 
 Billy sat up on the bed and gazed steadfastly 
 at her visitor. 
 
 "I don't see how you found out all this, Miss 
 Perkins," said she. It was noticeable that she no 
 longer said Delia. She had conceived an amazing 
 respect for the little Perkins girl In the last hour. 
 
 "Well, I've been stenographer in Mr. Dreiser's 
 office ever since he came here, you know." 
 
 "Yes, so I heard," said Billy. 'That's the rea- 
 son I was so surprised to find you In Brackett's 
 office the other day." 
 
 "I was transferred there just a few weeks ago," 
 said Miss Perkins. 
 
 "But you must have been a mere child when 
 you went Into Dreiser's office." 
 
 "Yes, I was nothing but a kid, just out of busi- 
 ness college," admitted Miss Perkins. "It was 
 Mr. Manders put me on. Mr. Manders was Dr. 
 Haswell's chief stenographer and private secre- 
 tary for years. He acted as secretary of the 
 Board, too, attended the meetings and kept the 
 records. He understood everything that was go- 
 ing on. He was onto Dreiser, and he put me on. 
 I suppose I would have stayed downy for years if 
 he hadn't put me wise. But after he tipped me 
 off I understood everything I saw." 
 
BILLY ACQUIRES HER FIRST DISCIPLE 69 
 
 "Where Is Mr. Manders now?'' 
 
 *'0h, he talked too much and got fired. He 
 wouldn't stand in. But he'd saved up enough to 
 get him a chicken ranch in the suburbs, so he didn't 
 care. He's selling eggs. Why should he care?" 
 
 "And where did you get this receipted bill?" 
 
 "I found it mixed in with my papers after I 
 left. It's never been asked for, so I suppose It 
 hasn't been missed. Or if it's been missed, maybe 
 Mr. Dreiser doesn't like to make any inquiries 
 about it." 
 
 "That seems terrible carelessness on Dreiser's 
 part." 
 
 "It seems so," admitted Miss Perkins, "but ac- 
 cidents will happen. And Dreiser Is careless. 
 He has dictated letters to me that were very care- 
 less Indeed. But these busy men who are used to 
 dictating their letters get so they hate to write a 
 letter themselves. And then Dreiser's like some 
 other big men. He's careless because he under- 
 rates people. It never occurred to him that I 
 knew beans. He never thought anything about 
 me, any more'n 'zif I was a machine. People 
 usually think I'm stupid." 
 
 Billy laughed outright. The Perkins girl In 
 reality had a stupid cast of countenance. She was 
 an old-fashioned-looking girl, with Insignificant 
 features, hair combed plainly down from a part 
 in the middle, flat chested, with clumsy and un- 
 fashionable clothes, and that sort of inexpressive 
 
70 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 face which does not mirror the thoughts within. 
 There was nothing of the flip, fresh or modish 
 about Miss Perkins. 
 
 Billy could Imagine that a man could have her 
 around his office for years and notice her no more 
 than a machine. 
 
 "You are a deceptive person, Miss Perkins," 
 said she genially. "You are far, far from stupid." 
 
 "It's a case anyway of bein' a bigger fool'n you 
 look or lookin' a bigger fool'n you are," said Miss 
 Perkins calmly. 
 
 The two Pennlngtons shrieked. 
 
 "Did Dreiser transfer you because he suspected 
 you?" asked Billy. 
 
 "Oh, no, he couldn't suspect me, because I 
 never opened my head to anyone about this be- 
 fore except my own home folks. If he suspected 
 me he'd fire me on the spot. It just happened. 
 Brackett wanted an office woman, and they sent 
 me over." 
 
 "And what made you bring me this receipt?" 
 asked Billy curiously. 
 
 "Well, I've been lookin' for somebody to start 
 something," replied Miss Perkins; "and when 
 you got on the warpath about the chalk I thought 
 maybe this would help you." 
 
 "But you didn't hear what I said to him about 
 the chalk. Did he tell you afterward?" 
 
 "No, but he called up Dreiser and told him all 
 about It over the phone, soon's you'd got out. I 
 
BILLY ACQUIRES HER FIRST DISCIPLE 7 1 
 
 took off the receiver out in my room and listened 
 to it all." 
 
 Billy stared at this frank avowal. 
 
 "I knew you must have made him mad over 
 something when he jumped on you so/' explained 
 Miss Perkins, "and I thought Fd find out about 
 it. I know it's not nice to listen." 
 
 "No apology necessary, Miss Perkins," said 
 Billy; "your elders and betters have been known 
 to listen." 
 
 "I was sorry for you, too," continued the girl. 
 "Old Jennie is a brute." 
 
 Miss Pennington considered her visitor with a 
 subtle joy. There was something in the sedate, 
 unemotional way in which the stenographer said 
 these crushing things of those so far above her, 
 that amused Billy so intensely that it was almost a 
 pain. 
 
 "Jennie? Why do you call him that?" she 
 asked, deeply tickled. 
 
 "His name's Jennifer, you know." 
 
 "No, is it? How lovely. He always signs 
 J. S., you know." Billy gurgled with delight. 
 
 "Oh, Jennie dear, Oh, Jennie dear, 
 Come rest upon this bosom here," 
 
 she sang, to the tune of an old school song, clasp- 
 ing her arms to her breast in an attitude of pas- 
 sionate devotion. Then she finished by kicking 
 
72 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 her heels In the air and letting out a "Yowl" ex- 
 pressive of extreme pleasure. 
 
 *'What do you think of Dreiser?" she asked. 
 
 "Oh, Dreiser's a crook," said Delia calmly. 
 "He's just an all-around grafter. He's a thief 
 and a liar. He has women, too. He'll end up In 
 jail." 
 
 "For mercy's sake," said Billy, pop-eyed. 
 
 Miss Perkins began to gather up her wraps, 
 preparatory to departure. 
 
 "Weren't you afraid to come to me with this?" 
 said Billy. 
 
 "No," said Miss Perkins, In a considering way. 
 "I know you're straight. I don't pretend to be 
 up In G in education, but I think there's one thing 
 I've learned in my business career, and that's how 
 to tell a crook from a straight person. I wouldn't 
 like to have you use my name for the next three 
 months. After that I don't care. I'm going to 
 quit anyway then. My sister runs a boarding 
 house, and she's done so well that when her lease 
 expires she's going to take a larger house and I'm 
 going in with her." 
 
 Mrs. Pennington entered with a large, round, 
 fat, luxuriant chocolate layer cake in one hand, 
 and a hissing tea urn in the other. Behind her 
 walked Blink, a large, bossy-looking white cat, 
 stepping with all the assured Importance of a 
 household tyrant. Behind him crept Petle, a 
 humble little yellow cat, who had crawled In off 
 
BILLY ACQUIRES HER FIRST DISCIPLE 73 
 
 the Street and refused to go away, but always 
 knew his place and kept it. 
 
 *'Tea and cats," said Billy; "old maids' Para- 
 dise." 
 
 "They ain't never made so much trouble as 
 whiskey and horses," said the Perkins girl. 
 
CHAPTER VI 
 
 In Which Billy Gains Newspaper Experi- 
 ence AND Becomes a Receiver 
 OF Stolen Property 
 
 IT Is a curious fact that no one ever started as 
 the leader of a forlorn hope without encoun- 
 tering sympathy, aid and support which he never 
 expected, and of whose existence he was unaware. 
 
 Perhaps the reason Is that any person who will 
 lead a forlorn hope Is a personality which will 
 attract followers. Perhaps It Is that any long- 
 standing abuse has created Its own harvest of 
 smouldering resentment, ready to break out when 
 a leader arises. 
 
 Cowardice being the leading characteristic of 
 the human race, especially In combination with 
 its perfectly respectable sisters, Prudence and 
 Horse Sense, it Is remarkable how long people 
 win suffer oppression without rebellion. But 
 when things get to the breaking point there are 
 always plenty of the oppressed who will covertly 
 hold the coat of the man who will come forward 
 to do the fighting and risk the licking. 
 
 The Perkins girl was the first of Billyhs crop 
 74 
 
BILLY GAINS NEWSPAPER EXPERIENCE 75 
 
 of followers. Billy held further conversations 
 with her, and others came to her house and told 
 her things. Her stock of material increased won- 
 derfully, and she held back her screeds to the pa- 
 pers until she could incorporate it all. Her letters 
 to the Board she had sent immediately. 
 
 While she was working on her statements to 
 the press, Miss Forrest called her into the office 
 one day. She did not say, *'Billy, there's some- 
 thing I want to talk over with you," In her old 
 way. She did not even ask Billy to sit down. 
 Instead, she let her stand before the desk and 
 said formally, 
 
 "Miss Pennington, I am sorry to say that your 
 class work Is falling below standard. I shall not 
 be able to recommend you for reappointment un- 
 less you bring it up to grade during the remainder 
 of the year." 
 
 Billy was silent for a moment, while this 
 dropped down and assimilated. Then she said 
 gently, 
 
 "You are my principal, Miss Forrest. Will 
 you advise me how I can bring my work up to 
 grade?" 
 
 "I would advise you to devote more attention 
 to it," replied Miss Forrest coldly, without rais- 
 ing her eyes. 
 
 Billy swallowed hard. 
 
 "Have you noticed me loafing In the school- 
 room. Miss Forrest?" she said; "or getting away 
 
y6 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 before half past five or six o'clock at night very 
 often?" 
 
 "No," replied Miss Forrest, "but the time put 
 in at school work, or even the labor. Is not the 
 only thing that tells. The vitality and freshness 
 the teacher brings to It are even more Important. 
 When the teacher's mind Is distracted with out- 
 side Interests she cannot give the best of herself 
 to her work. And our work demands the best 
 that Is In us. We defraud the children when we 
 give them a divided Interest. I am sure you feel 
 that, Miss Pennington." 
 
 Billy experienced a feeling of nausea. 
 
 *'0h, Miss Forrest," she pleaded; "we've been 
 friends for a long time. Do let's be frank with 
 each other." 
 
 "I don't know what you mean, Miss Penning- 
 ton. I am perfectly frank with you. You are 
 letting your resentment against your superiors in 
 office detract from your value as a teacher. You 
 are expending so much vitality In useless anger 
 against them, and talking and writing so much 
 about it outside, that you are forgetting your real 
 duty, your only duty, which Is to devote your en- 
 tire energies to the pupils under your care." 
 
 "Oh, I see," said Billy. 
 
 "I was sure you would," said the principal. 
 "As you know, I have always Inculcated the mis- 
 sionary spirit In my teachers. You have always 
 had a great deal of it, and I am sure It will re- 
 
BILLY GAINS NEWSPAPER EXPERIENCE 77 
 
 turn to you when you free your mind from the 
 useless feelings of dissatisfaction which have 
 filled It. ^Thoughts are things,* and thoughts of 
 anger and hatred rebound upon ourselves." 
 
 A mocking light shone In Billy's brown eye. 
 
 "I'll try to remember, Miss Forrest," said she 
 genially; '*thank you so much for giving me such 
 a nice lesson." 
 
 "Not at all," said Miss Forrest; "I shall be 
 amply repaid if you will profit by it." 
 
 Billy stared at her. Then she went away more 
 in sorrow than in anger. She was sorry for Miss 
 Forrest, and not at all angry at her. Neverthe- 
 less she felt a sort of disgust for the principal. 
 
 "TheyVe got her," she said to Ethel later. 
 "She's gone over to the Dreiser outfit boots and 
 saddle. Probably they told her she'd get hers if 
 she didn't. This threat was sent to me because I 
 wrote the letters to the Board. Old Jennie 
 wouldn't do it himself. With a refinement of 
 meanness he had to force Miss Forrest, who has 
 been my friend, to do it. I wouldn't mind her 
 going over, if she'd only be frank about it. If 
 she'd said, *Billy, you know I'm with you, but I 
 can't lose my job. If you write any more letters 
 to the Board they'll make me fire you. I can't 
 help you and there's no use my getting fired with 
 you.' If she'd said that, I'd have loved her just 
 the same. But 'missionary spirit.' Yah." 
 
 "You can't expect a person like Miss Forrest to 
 
78 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 do things as a crook like Dreiser would," replied 
 Ethel. "She's got to salve her conscience and 
 make herself believe she's acting for your good 
 and the good of the schools. People who arc 
 naturally good In their Instincts, but cowards, al- 
 ways do that way." 
 
 Billy had great faith In the personal interview, 
 despite her Inconspicuous success along this line 
 with Messrs. Brackett and Dreiser, so she once 
 more arrayed herself In her velvet splendor when 
 her material for the press was ready, and sought 
 Interviews with the editors of all the dally papers 
 In Bartown. 
 
 There were nine of these, printed In English, 
 but six of them emanated from three offices, these 
 companies Issuing both morning and evening edi- 
 tions. One of the remaining three was the great 
 Forum, the Thunderer of Bartown, which had 
 never instituted an evening paper, and two others 
 were evening dallies. 
 
 Billy had carefully prepared in typewritten 
 manuscript a full account of the closing of the 
 seventy-nine rooms, and what It meant to over 
 4,000 children directly affected and some 20,000 
 indirectly so; of the schoolbook matter, illus- 
 trated by the copybook incident; of the chalk and 
 its demoralizing Influence; of the Harcourt inci- 
 dent. She added typewritten copies of the Hicks 
 letter and the receipted bill. 
 
 She expected to see all this material within a 
 
BILLY GAINS NEWSPAPER EXPERIENCE 79 
 
 few weeks spread upon the first page of one of 
 the city dallies, in the form of a great sensational 
 illustrated story. Her only doubt was as to which 
 would take it up. Her personal preference was 
 for the Forum, and she disliked to think that per- 
 haps she might have to give it to one of the yel- 
 low journals. She felt that if the standing, the 
 influence, the dignity of the Forum could be 
 brought to the backing of her cause, the latter 
 was as good as won. The whole crusade would 
 be shifted from her humble shoulders to the 
 broad and mighty ones of the great paper. 
 
 So she called on the Forum first. She had no 
 reason to complain of lack of attention. The 
 office boy, it is true, met her with the natural 
 hauteur of his caste, so much above that of the 
 mere writer, but Billy had not handled the youth- 
 ful male for years for nothing. He was soon 
 talking it over with her in an almost human way. 
 
 A reporter speedily came out, sent by an assist- 
 ant city editor on the office boy's guarantee that 
 there was a girl out there with a story. 
 
 When the reporter saw what she had his eyes 
 stuck out. 
 
 "Gee whiz," said he; "just let me show that to 
 the city editor." 
 
 He disappeared with the typewritten sheets, 
 and shortly after showed her into the sacred pre- 
 cincts within. The city editor was a thin, young- 
 ish, tired-looking man. He listened to all she had 
 
8o CRAYON CLUE 
 
 to say in silence, fingering and glancing at the 
 sheets of her manuscript meanwhile. 
 
 *'0f course I don't expect you to use what I 
 have written there,'* said Billy eagerly. It was 
 the chance of her life. She had at last got a per- 
 son in power to listen who was beyond the night- 
 shade influence of the Bartown school manage- 
 ment. 
 
 "I know," she bubbled, "that I can't write." 
 "I'm not so sure of that," remarked the city 
 editor. 
 
 "Oh, that's nice of you," dimpled Billy Pen; 
 "but of course I've merely set down what I knew. 
 You will transform it into a great newspaper 
 story. I know when we gave our big fair in the 
 Teachers' Association how anxious the reporters 
 were for something that would make a real story; 
 something interesting and sensational, you know. 
 And everybody says that bridge steal scandal that 
 the Forum reported was the biggest newspaper 
 story ever published in Bartown. But I believe 
 this would be even bigger yet, don't you?" 
 "I think it might," admitted the editor. 
 "Of course you'd come and get photographs of 
 the boards loaded with the chalk marks that won't 
 rub out," babbled Billy happily; "and you could 
 send a reporter to sit in the schoolrooms and 
 watch the children at the boards and see them try 
 to write. And you could interview Miss Har- 
 court and the head doctor out at the Jackson San- 
 
BILLY GAINS NEWSPAPER EXPERIENCE 8 1 
 
 itarium. He says she's just as sane as anybody, 
 and never was anything else. And you could put 
 in the story of her life. I think that would give 
 so much human interest to the story, don't you?" 
 
 "Yes," admitted the city editor, "I think it 
 would." 
 
 "It was the death of those people, the death 
 caused by the steal in the construction, that gave 
 the bridge story so much human interest," con- 
 fided Billy. "Of course nobody's been killed in 
 the schools yet, though we're all almost dead, but 
 this thing is so much wider, touches so many thou- 
 sands of people all over the city, that I think it 
 would be even more exciting than the bridge story, 
 don't you?" 
 
 The city editor said it might. 
 
 "Why, every teacher in Bartown would send 
 out and buy the paper that had it in," declared 
 Billy excitedly; "there are nearly 5,000 teachers 
 in Bartown. And every English-speaking person 
 that has a child in school would want a copy. 
 There are 200,000 children in the schools. Why, 
 you'd want an extra edition." 
 
 "Yes," said the editor, "that's perfectly true." 
 "Then if you took up the crusade, as you did on 
 the bridge steal," said Billy earnestly, "just think 
 what a sensation it would make. It would be tele- 
 graphed all over the United States. It would 
 make the Forum more famous than it ever was 
 before; and just think what good it would do." 
 
82 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 Billy clasped her little hands in their brown 
 suede gloves, and her small, eager face took on 
 a longing look that made it adorable. 
 
 "It's not merely a matter of saving the tax- 
 payers' money and preventing graft," said she. 
 "It's a thing that touches thousands of lives. 
 Thousands of teachers are being made miserable 
 and wretched by the burdens put on them, and 
 many of them are going to break down under it 
 as Miss Harcourt did. Thousands of children of 
 the poor, who never will have any chance in life 
 except the poor little bit of education they get 
 with us, are having that one chance injured and 
 reduced. The Forum could remove this blight 
 from the schools ; the Forum alone. The Forum 
 could give us back the old happy times we used 
 to have under Dr. Haswell. Isn't it wonderful 
 to have so much power I" 
 
 The city editor, who had been staring at Billy, 
 rose suddenly, somewhat as if he couldn't stand 
 it any longer. 
 
 "If you will wait a moment," he said formally, 
 "I would like to have our managing editor see 
 this." 
 
 He went away with her manuscript, and left 
 her for quite a long time, it seemed to her. 
 Finally he came back and ushered her into a 
 rather imposing office, furnished with mahogany, 
 with a handsome rug on the floor and oil paint- 
 ings on the wall. An old gentleman with white 
 
BILLY GAINS NEWSPAPER EXPERIENCE 83 
 
 hair and fine delicate wrinkles rose and shook 
 hands with her. In the fleeting glimpse she 
 caught of him Billy got an impression that he was 
 like a French marquis ; but he immediately seated 
 her in a chair where a glare from the window fell 
 full upon her face, while of his own countenance, 
 against this blare of light, she could distinguish 
 not a single feature, much less the expression. It 
 was almost like talking with some one in the dark. 
 
 "Ah, Miss Pennington," he said pleasantly, 
 "this is a very interesting story you have brought 
 us. Did you want pay for this?" 
 
 "Oh, no," said Billy, horrified; "of course not. 
 I shall be only too thankful if you will take it up 
 and start a crusade." 
 
 "I see. Of course you understand that to do 
 that we would have to have proofs which would 
 stand in court. Do I understand you to say that 
 you have the originals of these documentary 
 proofs?" 
 
 "Oh, yes, indeed." 
 
 "Those would be very important papers, you 
 know. Pardon me for the suggestion, but I hope 
 you keep them in a safe place." 
 
 "In a safety deposit box," said Billy confidently. 
 
 "Ah. You have a safety deposit box?" 
 
 "No, but a friend of mine has. He lets me 
 keep them there." 
 
 "Ah, yes; and who is he?" 
 
 Billy hesitated. 
 
84 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 "I'd rather not say that," she said; "I will show 
 you the originals, if it is necessary before pub- 
 lishing." 
 
 "I see. And who secured these originals for 
 you?" 
 
 "I couldn't tell that either," said Billy. 
 
 "But — ah — pardon me. Miss Pennington, but 
 as these documents must have been stolen, do you 
 not lay yourself open to grave charges by not 
 telling how they came into your possession?" 
 
 "I wish Dreiser would have me arrested for 
 stealing them," said Billy vindictively; "I bet 
 some things would come out on the witness stand 
 that would make him sick." 
 
 "Ah, I see," said the marquis benignly. "Well, 
 Miss Pennington, we will look into this matter 
 and if we decide to go on with it we will let you 
 know. We shall need a great deal of help from 
 you, you know. Of course you understand that 
 if this story were not well supported it would ren- 
 der us liable to a suit for damages, so it will 
 require some little time to look it up." 
 
 That was all. He got up and walked to the 
 door with her, shook hands again, held the door 
 open for her, paid her a little compliment. Billy 
 trod on air as she went away. Her eyes shone, 
 her cheeks were flushed, and she was filled with 
 excitement at the thought of her success. 
 
 It was Saturday, the teacher's day for attend- 
 ing to extraneous matters. She knew the story 
 
BILLY GAINS NEWSPAPER EXPERIENCE 85 
 
 could not appear the next morning, but she fully 
 expected to see It spread all over the front page 
 of the Forum the following Sunday. All that 
 week she looked for a communication from the 
 Forum, Every time anyone knocked at her door 
 she thought It was a reporter from the Forum, 
 Every time she was called to the phone, she ex- 
 pected a message from the marquis, or the young- 
 ish, tired-looking man. 
 
 But Saturday came, and no message had 
 reached her. The moment she awoke Sunday 
 morning she flung on stockings, slippers and ki- 
 mono and stole down to the vestibule of the apart- 
 ment house In which she lived to get the Forum 
 which she had ordered delivered. She turned 
 page after page with a sinking heart. It was not 
 in. Then she went back and searched the smaller 
 items, the editorial. But there was not a word. 
 
 This, with variations which are irrelevant and 
 immaterial, was Billy's experience with the vari- 
 ous conservative daily papers of Bartown. She 
 visited them all in turn, and was always met with 
 politeness and attention. The editors seemed 
 perfectly willing to spend time with her. Some 
 of them talked with her about the conditions in 
 the schools, and seemed deeply interested. 
 
 All this fussing with the papers took time. 
 When the second Sunday and then the third had 
 gone by with nothing published In the Forum, she 
 visited that office again. This time she was not 
 
86 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 received. The city editor sent out a civil message 
 that he was sorry, but was too busy to see her 
 that day. She called again. He was not in. Still 
 again, and that time came the bald statement that 
 the Forum had decided not to take up the matter. 
 
 It seemed to Billy that she would never get 
 over the disappointment of that moment. She 
 got the same statement from two or three other 
 papers, then stopped asking. It was borne in 
 upon her that the conservative papers of Bar- 
 town did not intend to take up the matter. If 
 the Forum, the best of them, would not touch it, 
 she felt convinced that none of the others would. 
 The Forum, the pioneer daily of the city, was the 
 one which was supposed to consider patriotism, 
 the public welfare, and things of that kind in its 
 policy. It was intensely conservative, the family 
 paper of the rich people generally in Bartown, 
 and of the church element In particular. 
 
 It had conducted some very effective investiga- 
 tions Into the conduct of local affairs; had ex- 
 posed and remedied various abuses. It had never 
 been defeated when it went after a thing of this 
 kind. The pioneer paper of the city and for years 
 its only one, it had grown up with the town and 
 was read by all the old-timers. 
 
 The old-timers in any American city are usu- 
 ally wealthy. Some of the first settlers, of course, 
 do not survive. They wander away to stake other 
 claims, and prospect other lodes. But those who 
 
BILLY GAINS NEWSPAPER EXPERIENCE 87 
 
 have stuck have money and own all the best build- 
 ing lots in town. By this element In Bartown the 
 Forum was adored. 
 
 The Forum took Itself with deadly seriousness. 
 The editorial In which It advised Oom Paul what 
 to do after the English had relieved him of his 
 job was a model of counsel to defeated rulers. It 
 was not above handing out kindly advice to the 
 German emperor as to his duty on occasion, and 
 it reproved Tsl An In a manner which delighted 
 every foreign missionary In the United States who 
 was home for a furlough. But whatever else it 
 did It always stood for Bartown and Bartown's 
 interests ; and It seemed to Billy that the hurt she 
 got when that cold message came out to her would 
 never quite heal over. 
 
 After that the disappointments from the other 
 old line papers were small. She expected noth- 
 ing from them when their leader declined action. 
 She saw regretfully that she must turn to the yel- 
 lows. 
 
 The yellows were two, a morning and an even- 
 ing, started within a few years past by a man who 
 owned a chain of saffron sheets. They had 
 thrown large stones Into the calm pool of Bar- 
 town affairs. They had stirred depths of mud 
 and settlings that amazed all hands, were hated 
 and execrated by all truly Christian people, had 
 been excluded from the libraries, and were read 
 in all street cars and saloons. Billy hated to go 
 
88 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 to them, because she feared It would give her 
 crusade a black eye from the start if it were taken 
 up by them; but she certainly never expected 
 that they would turn It down. 
 
 She never even got an interview at this office. 
 She never got beyond the office boy, a man In this 
 case, who would not take In her name with re- 
 quest for an audience, but demanded her manu- 
 script. In two minutes he brought this back and 
 tossed It down before her with the indifferent re- 
 mark, "Nothln* doln'.'' 
 
 Billy went away stunned. As a last resort she 
 wrote a personal letter to the editor of each pa- 
 per, enclosing a signed statement of the case, and 
 asking them to publish it as a letter from her- 
 self. 
 
 Some of these manuscripts were returned with- 
 out a word. Others enclosed a printed slip, de- 
 clining her contribution with regret, and begging 
 her to believe that the crowded state of their col- 
 umns, rather than any fault of her material, pre- 
 vented Its use. Others did not return it at all, 
 while others returned her own letter with her 
 manuscript, which seemed to Billy the worst in- 
 sult of all. 
 
 Billy was in despair, but her discouragement 
 was almost lost In her perplexity. 
 
 "I can't understand," she said to Delia Perkins, 
 whom she had consulted In the preparation of her 
 
BILLY GAINS NEWSPAPER EXPERIENCE 89 
 
 Statement for the press, and who came to see her 
 often nowadays. 
 
 "I cannot understand how Dreiser can control 
 the papers," she repeated. "He's not rich enough 
 to do that, even with all his grafting. I have 
 looked up the owners of the papers. Not one of 
 them Is on the school board or has anything to 
 do with school buildings or school supplies, so far 
 as appears. Of course some of them might have, 
 on the side, but It Isn't possible all of them have. 
 It doesn't seem as If advertising considerations 
 could have anything to do with It. I know it's a 
 sensational story. All sorts of reasons that I 
 don't know anything about might have kept it out 
 of any one of these papers. But I cannot Imagine 
 any one reason that would have kept It out of all 
 of them. And that's what has happened. 
 They've been silenced, all of them. It's a mys- 
 tery. Well, it's no go, Delia. If the papers won't 
 help us we can't do anything." 
 
 The tears rose to Billy's brown eyes. 
 
 "The game's up, Delia," she said chokingly. 
 "There's no help for the teachers. There's no 
 help for the children. Nobody who has power 
 enough to do anything will take It up." 
 
 Delia Perkins did not say much, for she was 
 a young person who found It singularly difficult 
 to express what passed for emotion in her un- 
 plumbed interior. But she laid an arm around 
 
90 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 Billy's shaking shoulders, and Billy laid her 
 golden head against the homely girl's breast. 
 
 "I'll never forget you, Delia Perkins,'* she 
 sobbed; ^'you're the best friend and the smartest 
 girl I ever knew. You've got brains, and you've 
 got sand, and that's more than most of the peo- 
 ple on this earth have got." 
 
 A sort of convulsion seized the stern young 
 countenance of Delia Perkins. She came from 
 North of England factory stock. A more un- 
 suave, unpolished and undiplomatic stock does not 
 exist on earth. Its manners are not good, but it 
 has been the backbone of most of the reforms 
 that have been established in England. It was 
 apparently impossible for Delia to speak comfort- 
 ing words. She could not even cry gracefully. 
 While Billy was a Niobe in her tears, a lovely 
 picture of quivering grief. Miss Perkins looked 
 as though something she had eaten were disagree- 
 ing with her intensely. 
 
 But she looked down on that golden head with 
 something tigerishly maternal in her keen grey 
 eyes. Homely girls like compliments as well as 
 pretty ones, and mighty few compliments had ever 
 come Delia Perkins' way. It was a wonderful 
 compliment when lovely, popular Miss Pennington 
 praised her so highly, and cried upon her bosom. 
 
 She left without saying much, but the very next 
 evening she came back to the house and handed 
 out to Billy without a word a large flat envelope 
 
BILLY GAINS NEWSPAPER EXPERIENCE 9 1 
 
 of the kind used as magazine wrappers. Inside 
 was a quantity of loose typewritten sheets, all let- 
 ters; some signed, which had evidently come 
 through the mail; others unsigned, evidently car- 
 bon duplicates of letters dictated. 
 
 Billy looked them all over carefully. It was 
 correspondence between Dreiser and various com- 
 panies, chiefly the Columbian Book and the 
 Northwestern Supply. The letters from the com- 
 panies were as they had come through the mail. 
 The letters of Dreiser were unsigned, evidently 
 copies of letters dictated by him preserved for 
 reference purposes. They concerned rebates and 
 other things. One referred to the discharge of 
 Mrs. Merrill. None told very much by itself. 
 To an ignorant person they would have meant 
 nothing. In the hands of a skilled lawyer, with 
 all the ends of the tangle in his hands, they would 
 have been damning evidence. 
 
 Billy looked up aghast. 
 
 *'Della, where did you get these?" she said. 
 
 "Stole them," said Delia. 
 
 There was silence for a minute. 
 
 Then, ''Go on, tell it," said Billy. 
 
 "Well, I know the inside of Dreiser's office like 
 my own bedroom," said Delia. "I know that 
 when he's there he often stays late working, and 
 some one always has to stay with him. But when 
 he's out of town everybody in that office is out- 
 side the door on the stroke of five. 
 
92 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 "Well, Dreiser is out of town. He went to 
 New York two days ago, and he isn't expected 
 back till the end of the week. By half past ^ve 
 everybody is pretty well out of that building. But 
 it isn't shut up, because people are always linger- 
 ing about some of the offices. The elevators are 
 still running. Nobody ever pays any attention to 
 me up there. I worked in the building three 
 years, and I have been up there since on errands 
 for Brackett. 
 
 *'When I went in I says to the elevator man, 'J 
 wonder if there's anyone left up in the building 
 committee's room,' I says. He says, *I couldn't 
 say, I seen a bunch of 'em go down, but there 
 might be some of 'em left,' he says. 'I'll just go 
 up and see,' says I. 
 
 ''So I gets off at the building committee floor 
 and walks down the long hall towards that office. 
 Down at the end of that hall there's a door into 
 a cleaner's room, and from that room there are 
 back stairs clear up and down the building, for 
 the help to use, running into a cleaner's room on 
 each floor, where they keep their pails and mops 
 and things. I walked up one flight to Dreiser's 
 floor and tried the door. If there'd been any of 
 the bunch there, I'd have just sat down and had 
 a talkfest. But the door was locked, so I just 
 went in with my key." 
 
 "Your key?" 
 
 "I never gave it up when I came away. I for- 
 
BILLY GAINS NEWSPAPER EXPERIENCE 93 
 
 got it, and no one ever asked for it. No one 
 ever minds about those things up there. There^s 
 nothing to steal but the office fixtures, you know. 
 
 "I kept all Dreiser's correspondence in alpha- 
 betical file books, a copy of each letter he wrote, 
 with the letter it was in answer to, or the letter 
 that came back in answer to it, under the first let- 
 ter of the correspondent's last name. He keeps 
 those file books in a bookcase with glass doors be- 
 side his desk, where he can swing around and open 
 it and take out any one he wants. The doors are 
 locked at night, but I know how to pick the lock 
 with wire. I've done it before when he's gone out 
 of town and forgotten to leave me the key." 
 
 "Good gracious, what carelessness," breathed 
 Billy. 
 
 "I told you he was careless," said Delia, *'but 
 then unless anybody knew exactly where to look 
 for those letters they might hunt for hours with- 
 out finding them. Of course, I didn't know 
 whether I'd find them where I left them, but they 
 were there all right. Then as to carelessness, those 
 letters would be no good to people who didn't un- 
 derstand matters. I expect Dreiser fixed up all 
 those things by word of mouth, and these letters 
 just happened to come along afterward in the 
 course of business." 
 
 "All that," said Billy, "narrows down the num- 
 ber of people who ever could or would have taken 
 them. You might get in jail for this, Delia." 
 
94 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 "Sure," said Delia, "if they ever got onto me. 
 But it may be months before Dreiser ever looks 
 for those letters. It might be years, or never. 
 Anyway, it won't be till he gets home from New 
 York, and I'll risk that elevator boy remembering 
 by that time that I went up with him tonight. Be- 
 sides, why should anyone think of me? No one 
 connected with the schools knows I'm a friend 
 of yours. I never phone you from school, never 
 see you at school. Of course if our relations ever 
 got known to them monkeys they might suspect 
 me, but they never could prove it." 
 
 Billy looked relieved. 
 
 "I'm glad if you think it's safe, Delia," she 
 said, "but it took a lot of nerve to do it, all the 
 same. How did you ever come to do it, Delia?" 
 
 "I thought perhaps if you had more evidence 
 of this here graft," said Delia, "that maybe the 
 papers would help you. And I thought you might 
 as well have these things in your hands, anyway." 
 
 "You risked jail for me," said Billy. 
 
 The homely girl looked embarrassed. 
 
 "I'd risk more'n that for you," she muttered. 
 
 Some people can inspire personal loyalty be- 
 cause they themselves are capable of it. Billy 
 was one of these. The moment when she and 
 Delia Perkins kissed each other was finer in its 
 way than a lover's embrace, because their feel- 
 ing was of the spirit only. 
 
CHAPTER VII 
 In Which Billy Commits Personal Violence 
 
 ONE salient effect of Delia's little emulation 
 of the second-story man was to give Billy 
 her second wind. Her first had given out hor- 
 ribly after her final conviction that the papers 
 would do nothing for her. But Delia's act of 
 personal devotion braced her like a cool wave 
 in August. Neither of the girls had any more 
 qualms of conscience over the theft of the letters 
 than if, escaping from a robber's den, they had 
 taken along some of the buried loot. 
 
 Moreover, the cause loomed bigger and big- 
 ger all the time, and took deeper possession of 
 Billy's soul. The silencing of the papers showed 
 her that it was something incomparably vaster 
 than she had supposed. A sense of something 
 portentous overshadowing the schools took pos- 
 session of her, and it seemed to her that in the 
 whole city of Bartown there was no one to move 
 in the matter but herself. And into this sombre 
 sense of duty and necessity was injected daily the 
 sharp note of personal resentment and anger 
 
 95 
 
g6 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 which IS the salt and savor of any popular move- 
 ment. 
 
 Since there seemed nothing to do in other di- 
 rections she devoted all her attention at this time 
 to the Teachers' Association. The Association 
 had a great deal of business to transact because 
 of the pension fund, which it was pushing as hard 
 as possible. Billy had been a tireless committee 
 worker for this fund, and it was in this capacity 
 that she had acquired two things very valuable 
 to her in her later career; the power to stand on 
 her feet and address an audience, and the confi- 
 dence and affection of a very large body of teach- 
 ers. In after years she used to say that organi- 
 zation makes so much difference in women that 
 she believed that the members of a Ladies' Eu- 
 chre Club were smarter than women who didn't 
 belong to any club at all. 
 
 At this time, in November, she laid before the 
 Association a draft for a bill to be introduced in 
 the state legislature, which would convene after 
 New Year's. The bill proposed to provide tenure 
 of office for the teachers of the state as follows : 
 
 During her first four years of teaching the ap- 
 pointment of any teacher was to be revocable by 
 the board of education at pleasure. Of a teacher 
 who had had previous experience elsewhere, this 
 should be true for two years. After this proba- 
 tionary period no teacher could be discharged 
 without a full statement of charges in writing, 
 
BILLY COMMITS PERSONAL VIOLENCE 97 
 
 with full Opportunity for the teacher to appear 
 in answer to these at a public meeting of the 
 board, and to be represented by a lawyer and call 
 witnesses if she chose. 
 
 Billy presented this draft to the Association in 
 an able speech. She said in substance that this 
 law would merely give the teacher the benefit of 
 publicity, and would effectually prevent any school 
 board from discharging a teacher for reasons 
 which they were not ready to discuss and defend 
 in public. She pointed out also that no teacher 
 aware of good and sufficient reasons for her dis- 
 charge would court a public investigation. 
 
 "The basic principle underlying this bill," said 
 she, "is that we are not employes of the school 
 board, nor of our principals or superintendents, 
 in any such sense as a person working for a pri- 
 vate corporation is an employe. These people are 
 not paying their own money to us, they are not 
 employing us upon their business. We are, all 
 of us, school boards, superintendents, principals 
 and teachers, parts of the common school system 
 of this country. We attain our positions in that 
 system by a laborious and expensive training, re- 
 quired by law; by passing certain examinations, 
 required by law. Then the law gives us no pro- 
 tection in the retention of those positions. We 
 may be discharged simply because we have of- 
 fended some one over us, who is himself an em- 
 ploye, and who may not know any more about 
 
98 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 education than we do. We may lose our place by 
 offending a member of the board of education, 
 who may not know anything at all about educa- 
 tion; or because some member of the board 
 wishes to put a friend or relative of his own in 
 our place; or because a superintendent wishes to 
 bring in people of his own to supersede perfectly 
 good and competent teachers who were employed 
 under his predecessor. 
 
 **In the course of daily classroom work we at- 
 tain a certain class of knowledge about this busi- 
 ness of education which is not possessed by any 
 other constituent element of the school system; 
 that knowledge which is gained only through 
 hourly contact with the children. Of all who are 
 connected with the schools, It is we who know the 
 children best, and the actual conditions in the 
 schoolroom best. And yet, if we dare to offer out 
 of this knowledge reasons which we know to be 
 well founded against any policy adopted by the 
 management, we are in danger of losing our posi- 
 tions." 
 
 There was not a teacher In the room, or In the 
 Association or in the city of Bartown, who would 
 have dared to say these things. They gazed at 
 Billy in terror and admiration. To them her 
 fearlessness seemed superhuman, and they loved 
 her for it. Really, however, there was nothing 
 about it so amazing as they thought. There was 
 nothing the school management of Bartown could 
 
BILLY COMMITS PEKSONAE VIOLENCE 99 
 
 do to Billy except deprive her of her position. 
 She had made up her mind that she was willing 
 to give that up, and as soon as she did that she 
 had nothing more to be afraid of. 
 
 "It is degrading to our profession/' she con- 
 tinued, "the great profession of training and edu- 
 cating the future citizens of this country; it is 
 degrading to ourselves, as women engaged in the 
 most important business in this country, to remain 
 in such a position. Let us in the name of our 
 own self-respect, in the name of the welfare of 
 thousands of the children of the poor, whom we 
 know to be suffering because we do not dare to 
 tell what we know, let us go to the lawmakers 
 of our state and demand that they do this meas- 
 ure of justice. 
 
 "There are other laws that we should have. 
 We should have a law erecting the teaching body 
 of any city into a council, a recognized body in 
 the school system, and requiring the school board 
 to take cognizance of the findings of this coun- 
 cil on matters which come within the scope of its 
 members' experience, and to take them into con- 
 sideration in deciding the policies of the schools. 
 We ought not to be obliged to ask to be heard, 
 or to be dependent on the good will of some lib- 
 eral-minded man in authority. The school man- 
 agement should be required to call upon this great 
 department of the educational system for its find- 
 ings; to tap this rich vein of teaching experience 
 
lOO CRAYON CLUE 
 
 for the benefit of the schools; to take cognizance 
 of our opinions on books, on supplies, on every- 
 thing connected with the actual work of teaching. 
 
 "We should have a pension law, compelling 
 every teacher retained after the probationary 
 period to join the pension fund and pay into it 
 a certain percentage of her salary. This make- 
 shift method of the public-spirited portion of the 
 profession striving by private effort to place the 
 pension system on a sound basis is totally unfair 
 and totally inadequate. The teacher is required 
 to live in a way, to spend in a way, which makes 
 it impossible for her to provide adequately for 
 old age. Not till we have eliminated this grisly 
 shadow that overhangs all of us, the possibility 
 of a penniless superannuation, will our profession 
 be lifted to the plane it should occupy. 
 
 *'We should have a minimum salary law. There 
 are foreigners who cannot speak one word of 
 English, feeding the pigs in the rural portions of 
 this state, who are paid more than the American 
 girls who teach the children. There are chauf- 
 feurs in every city who receive more than teach- 
 ers in the high schools of those cities. The 
 woman teacher in the city of Bartown begins at 
 a salary of $600. The women in charge of the 
 public comfort stations — the public water closets 
 — receive $750. 
 
 *'The teacher must have by law at least six 
 
BILLY COMMITS PERSONAL VIOLENCE lOI 
 
 years of preliminary training; four in the high 
 school, two in the city training school. 
 
 "The matron at the comfort station need not 
 know how to read or write. 
 
 "The matron at the comfort station may go to 
 her work with a shawl over her head. 
 
 "The teacher who did such a thing would by 
 that act insure her own dismissal. 
 
 "The teacher who does not present a creditable 
 appearance in dress will find her hold on her posi- 
 tion shaky, no matter what her educational ac- 
 quirements. The very by-laws of the Bartown 
 Board of Education state that 'personality' is to 
 count for one-third the marks in the appointment 
 of a teacher; and you know as well as I do that 
 ^personality,' in the case of hiring a new teacher, 
 means looks and clothes; general appearance. 
 
 "The telephone girl in the office of the mayor 
 of Bartown has a salary of $1,300 a year, and 
 the only requirement for her to secure her place 
 is that she must be not less than 18 years of age. 
 The woman teacher, with her six years of expen- 
 sive training, must work at least eight years be- 
 fore she can receive so much. The scrub woman 
 appointed at the city hall receives $750 a year. 
 
 "Why is this so? Because these positions are 
 political rewards. They are given to the women 
 relatives of men active in local politics. By the 
 very fact that the American people have kept 
 their school system out of politics to an extent un- 
 
102 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 known in any other department of government — 
 for that very reason the compensation of the 
 teacher has been left below that of the scrub 
 woman. There is no one to remedy this anom- 
 alous state of affairs but the teachers themselves. 
 Who would be free himself must strike the blow.* 
 
 "We should have laws covering all the points 
 that I have outlined. I hope the Bartown Teach- 
 ers' Association will adopt this outline as a pro- 
 gramme; something to be kept in view and worked 
 for year after year until at last the teaching pro- 
 fession in this city is placed in a position safe, se- 
 cure and respected, which it certainly is not to- 
 day. But since one bill is enough to begin with, 
 I hope you will take for our first venture this 
 tenure of office bill. 
 
 *'I move, Madam Chairman, that this Asso- 
 ciation Introduce a tenure of office bill in the state 
 legislature this winter.'' 
 
 There was enthusiastic applause, a dozen 
 sprang to their feet to second the motion, which 
 seemed about to go through with a rush. As soon 
 as the motion was stated, however, the girl from 
 P. S. 43, whom Miss Forrest had once called a 
 spy, rose and addressed the chair. 
 
 She pointed out a provision in the constitution 
 which provided that "no action involving legisla- 
 tive action" should be taken by the Association 
 excepting at a meeting at which two-thirds of the 
 members were present. There was a great rust- 
 
BILLY COMMITS PERSONAL VIOLENCE IO3 
 
 ling about to get hold of copies of the constitu- 
 tion and read the clause. Her statement was 
 found correct. 
 
 Billy had entirely forgotten the provision, but 
 she remembered now the circumstances of its 
 adoption, years before. A small fraction of the 
 members, a bare quorum, had gotten the Asso- 
 ciation into hurried and ill-advised action over the 
 introduction of an ordinance in the city council. 
 The Association in disgust had thereupon 
 amended its constitution in such a way that a bill 
 could never again be introduced in its name with- 
 out the fact being generally known among the 
 members. It so happened that never since had 
 a similar proposal been made. The Association 
 was ten times larger now than then, and it was 
 a very different undertaking to get two-thirds of 
 its members out to a meeting. 
 
 The Association had been trained to the very 
 careful observance of the legality of its actions 
 since handling the money of the pension fund. It 
 had fifteen hundred members. Less than five 
 hundred were present. It was manifestly impos- 
 sible to order the bill drawn that day. It was 
 voted, however, to hold a meeting the following 
 Saturday, of which printed notices, setting forth 
 the reasons for a full attendance, should be mailed 
 to every member. 
 
 Though sorely disappointed at the delay, Billy 
 cheerfully admitted its necessity, and set to work 
 
I04 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 to secure a full attendance at the next meeting. 
 But in vain. Notices were sent out for the next 
 meeting, and then another, and then another. It 
 seemed impossible to secure the attendance of 
 two-thirds of the members. 
 
 A system of quick counting of all who entered 
 the room was devised. Each person was obliged 
 to show her membership card before entering. 
 Then she was given a ticket which she dropped 
 in a basket on entering. These tickets were 
 counted by a corps appointed for the purpose, so 
 that by the time the meeting was opened the num- 
 ber present was known. Billy was put in charge 
 of this counting, but the Spy and another Dreiser 
 woman were appointed among the tellers, and 
 Billy took the precaution that the Spy should an- 
 nounce the number present at each meeting, and 
 that this fact should be noted in the minutes. 
 
 It is always a difficult matter to get an attend- 
 ance of one thousand out of a membership of 
 fifteen hundred, for any purpose whatever. With 
 the teachers it was impossible any time to get a 
 meeting of any size except on a Saturday after- 
 noon, and even then it required extraordinary 
 attractions and efforts to get out a thousand. 
 
 Aside from the mailed notices, Billy and her 
 friends worked unremittingly, by telephone, per- 
 sonal letters and personal appeal, to secure the 
 necessary attendance. But Saturday after Satur- 
 
BILLY COMMITS PERSONAL VIOLENCE IO5 
 
 day a meeting was called, and the attendance fell 
 far below the necessary mark. 
 
 After the third failure an informal private 
 meeting of those most deeply interested in the 
 proposed bill was held. Billy was there, Miss 
 McPike, the Irish girl, and various other old- 
 time trusties of the Haswell regime. Each told 
 her observations and suspicions, and it was impos- 
 sible to avoid the conclusion that teachers were 
 being kept away from the meetings in order to 
 defeat the object for which they were called. 
 There were in the Association approximately two 
 hundred and fifty teachers who were Dreiser's 
 appointments. These stayed away in a solid 
 body, with the exception of a few, like the Spy, 
 who were always present to watch proceedings. 
 
 But in addition to these, and to the percentage 
 always detained by personal reasons, a solid block 
 of old-timers who had always been loyal to the 
 Association were staying away from the meetings. 
 Even at P. S. 43, Billy's own building, only three 
 teachers were regularly attending the meetings. 
 Among those who refused to attend were warm 
 personal friends of her own, and these had whis- 
 pered to her the reason. 
 
 "It's no use, Billy," they said; "the word's 
 gone out from Brackett. He has got his eye on 
 us, and everybody who goes is in danger. Who- 
 ever goes will be on his black list, and the minute 
 there is an excuse he will jump on us and make it 
 
I06 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 unpleasant for us in every way he can, even if he 
 doesn't fire us, and he'll do that at the first chance. 
 Not a Haswell appointee in the schools is safe. 
 They can't fire us all in a bunch, because that 
 would make a sensation and a row. But they'll 
 drop us one by one, as fast as they can, and 
 they'll always have a good excuse." 
 
 On checking off the list of the teachers it was 
 plainly evident that those who were staying away 
 were the ones under the district superintendents 
 appointed by Dreiser. That is, those who at- 
 tended were those protected because they taught 
 under a man whom Dreiser had not yet felt strong 
 enough to discharge. 
 
 The Association was caught in a net of its own 
 making, and realized, as more important bodies 
 have done before it, the chastened joys of living 
 under a written constitution. The constitution 
 provided for its own amendment only at a regular 
 meeting, and then provided for only three regu- 
 lar meetings a year. During its first year or two 
 of existence the Association had held only these 
 three meetings. When it took up the pension 
 fund and found that frequent meetings were neces- 
 sary, the constitution was simply amended to pro- 
 vide that special meetings could be called at any 
 time, at the desire of the board or on the request 
 of five members. 
 
 But the constitution could not be amended at 
 one of these, and the next regular meeting would 
 
BILLY COMMITS PERSONAL VIOLENCE IO7 
 
 not occur until the end of February. This was 
 far too late to go up to the legislature with the 
 bill. The friends of the latter could of course 
 have it introduced without the endorsement of the 
 Association, but they very much desired it pre- 
 sented by the Association itself, as its own bill. 
 Moreover, so much publicity had been given the 
 matter that if they failed now the entire public 
 would be informed that the teachers were unable 
 to get the endorsement of their own bill from 
 their own Association. 
 
 The teachers had no occasion to complain now 
 of lack of attention on the part of the press. 
 After the very first meeting, at which the Spy had 
 called the attention to the lack of the necessary 
 quorum, every paper in town had an article the 
 next morning in which Billy was represented as 
 trying to get the illegal endorsement by the Asso- 
 ciation of a scheme of her own by a sharp trick. 
 No denial of her own or her friends was printed. 
 
 After the next meeting, which failed to get out 
 the desired thousand, a cartoon appeared in one 
 paper which represented the teachers engaged in 
 a hair-pulling contest. Spread across one page 
 it showed a collection of raging, ramping females, 
 like the figures on comic valentines, brandishing 
 hatchets and yanking each other's hair, while 
 switches, curls and "rats" carpeted the floor, and 
 vituperative printed sentences slanted upward 
 from the lips of the combatants. 
 
I08 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 This caught the eye and tickled the fancy of 
 the public, and the policy spread to the other 
 papers and was followed and Improved upon. 
 After each meeting these horrible cartoons ap- 
 peared, executed with all the trained skill of high- 
 class newspaper artists. The teachers were repre- 
 sented by the press of the city merely as a group 
 of silly, quarrelling women who had got Into a 
 fight among themselves and were adding to the 
 gayety of nations. It was pointed out persist- 
 ently that this was the first result of an attempt 
 to go Into politics; that a bill put forward pro- 
 fessedly as a benefit to the teachers could not get 
 a quorum of the teachers themselves to pass it, 
 but Instead Instantly provoked a furious quarrel. 
 Humorous editorials, showing the fitness of 
 women for the ballot as Illustrated by this Inci- 
 dent, appeared. The merits of the bill were never 
 discussed, BUly^s draft was never even printed, 
 denials of the reports sent In by women who had 
 taught in the schools for years and were well- 
 known and respected citizens of the city were re- 
 fused publication. Reporters were not allowed In 
 the meetings, and never even tried to attend. Yet 
 the reports appeared each morning after, with 
 long fictitious discussions and detailed descrip- 
 tions of things which had never taken place, and 
 just enough fact to show that Information con- 
 cerning the meeting had been given by some one 
 who had been present. 
 
BILLY COMMITS PERSONAL VIOLENCE IO9 
 
 All this appealed strongly to certain sections of 
 the newspaper-reading public, and on every side 
 rose "the loud laugh that speaks the vacant 
 mind." To a certain type of mind there seems 
 to be something humorous in the very word 
 "schoolma'am." The subject cannot be men- 
 tioned without a bubbling forth of wit. There is 
 ground for the belief that the schoolma'am joke 
 was one of the seven original jokes of the hu- 
 man race, bandied lightly back and forth in the 
 Ark to while the tedium of the voyage, along with 
 the mother-in-law joke, the old-maid joke, and 
 some others. It was a dull season for news, and 
 this feature played up in the public prints week 
 after week tickled Bartown deeply. Children 
 came to school and smilingly told their teachers 
 they had recognized them in the morning's car- 
 toon. It was long since Bartown had enjoyed 
 such a good laugh. 
 
 This was a baptism of fire to the teachers. 
 More than one clipping bureau in the United 
 States has received a notification from some states- 
 man to discontinue his service when he was pass- 
 ing through a siege like this. The newspaper re- 
 porters and artists of America can make life a 
 hell when the pack is turned loose. To a set of 
 women who had hitherto lived lives remote from 
 publicity of any kind, it was a crucifixion. Some 
 who had been staunch friends of the bill hastily 
 withdrew, unable to stand the pressure. Some 
 
no CRAYON CLUE 
 
 women who had been personal friends of Billy's 
 for years dropped away from her, scared off. 
 
 If it had not been for the warm, loyal, de- 
 voted friends who not only stuck by but multi- 
 plied around her, Billy would have grown hard 
 very quickly at this time. Constant and pro- 
 longed resentment, a raging sense of injustice, is 
 the most hardening process one can pass through. 
 To think that the papers which had silently, 
 cynically refused to touch the story of the abuses 
 in the schools of which she had furnished them 
 such ample proofs; abuses which affected thou- 
 sands of children, thousands of teachers, and 
 thousands of dollars of the people's money — 
 would then turn on the instant and devote hun- 
 dreds of columns of blistering ridicule to a group 
 of inoffensive, hard-working women, endeavoring 
 to improve their professional standing by perfectly 
 reasonable and legitimate means — it was the most 
 bitter disillusionment of Billy's young life. 
 
 But persecution always affects certain types in 
 certain ways, and the process never varies. Some 
 immediately hasten away from the persecuted 
 cause or person, fearful of being identified with 
 unpopularity. Others love to see persecution be- 
 gin, and cr§wd to the front to give a kick to the 
 fellow that's down, even though they may not 
 know him. A streak of the same degeneracy that 
 makes the ripper slash and slash and slash again 
 hides far down in their beastly hearts. But others 
 
BILLY COMMITS PERSONAL VIOLENCE III 
 
 are made indignant by persecution, and rally to 
 the support of the victim even though he may be 
 a stranger. 
 
 Such people rallied to Billy; her own personal 
 friends, teachers with whom she had no acquaint- 
 ance, and even outsiders who had nothing to do 
 with the schools and were strangers to her. It 
 was borne in upon her also that these were all 
 people of character, people whom one could tie 
 to; who were worth having as friends. Some of 
 them displayed for her a sort of passion of loyalty 
 and affection inexplicable to her. It was at this 
 time that that sort of bodyguard collected around 
 her so noticeable later. A group of young teach- 
 ers constituted themselves her errand girls and 
 personal servants. They came to her room after 
 school hours to help with her after-school work. 
 They ran errands for her, did shopping for her, 
 that Billy might have more time for important 
 work which they could not do. All around her 
 sounded that intoxicating note of the personal fol- 
 lowing, which had first surged up in Delia Per- 
 kins. Touched to the heart, Billy balanced her 
 blessings with her wounds, and found that it was 
 worth while. 
 
 The fourth meeting had been called in the at- 
 tempt to get the two-thirds quorum. The friends 
 of the bill had decided that this should be the 
 last, and in fact had not the notices for it already 
 been sent out they would not have called it. 
 
112 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 Feeling that it was impossible to get the quorum, 
 they made no extra effort beyond sending the no- 
 tices by mall. But four weeks of Incessant and 
 highly valuable advertising had had their effect. 
 Uncontrollable curiosity had been aroused, and 
 it was immediately seen that this was to be the 
 largest of all the meetings. It was a bright, beau- 
 tiful Saturday afternoon, and women poured in 
 throngs into the hall. 
 
 Billy with her corps of tellers busy at the count- 
 ing saw that the meeting was going to be a record 
 breaker. Feverishly she reckoned up the figures 
 handed in by the various counters, and sent word 
 to the president to delay calling to order as long 
 as possible. 
 
 When, however, the great audience began to 
 grow restless and the chair was finally forced to 
 bring down the gavel, there were only 987 per- 
 sons in the room. The Spy, who had been look- 
 ing nervous and scared, announced the number 
 with a satisfied smile. 
 
 Billy had already sent up a second little note 
 to the platform. When she opened it the presi- 
 dent saw merely the words, "Make a speech.'' 
 
 She was a woman fully in sympathy with the 
 bill and intensely indignant at the means which 
 had been used against it. It was easy for her to 
 make a speech. So after announcing the fact that 
 the Association was still unable to muster the quo- 
 rum necessary to endorse this bill, and that no 
 
BILLY COMMITS PERSONAL VIOLENCE II 3 
 
 further attempt would be made in that line, she 
 launched into a lengthy, pointed and spicy review 
 of the campaign of the past month. She was lis- 
 tened to with intense interest, especially as she 
 grew almost personal towards the close. She 
 closed her remarks with the words, "Are there 
 any others who would like to be heard on this 
 subject?" 
 
 Instantly Billy's voice rang clarion clear 
 through the hall. 
 
 **Madam Chairman," she said, "while you 
 have been speaking fourteen members of this As- 
 sociation have entered the room. There are now 
 i,ooi members present. I move that the Bar- 
 town Teachers' Association adopt as its own the 
 tenure of office bill which I have prepared, and 
 order its introduction in the coming session of the 
 state legislature." 
 
 Like a flash the Spy was on her feet. 
 
 "I move we adjourn," she cried. 
 
 The motion to adjourn took precedence and 
 had to be put without discussion. 
 
 The chair put it and it was voted down with a 
 storm of "noes." 
 
 "The motion of Miss Pennington is now be- 
 fore you," said the chair; "are you ready for the 
 question?" 
 
 It was then the Spy showed that the Dreiser 
 administration had made no mistake in selecting 
 her for its agent. Such Dreiser sympathizers as 
 
114 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 were in the room were scattered through the vast 
 audience, impossible to reach. But near the door 
 sat the Spy and her one follower, who had acted 
 as teller of the admission tickets throughout the 
 meetings. 
 
 Instantly the Spy seized this woman's hand with 
 a whispered word, and together they ran for the 
 door. 
 
 But they had to pass Billy, and Billy's mind 
 was on the job. She saw that their departure 
 would leave less than the legal quorum in the 
 room to pass her motion. 
 
 So as they passed she caught the skirts of each, 
 and held on like grim death. Amazement stopped 
 them stock still for an instant, twisting astonished 
 faces over their shoulders. 
 
 ^'Question," sang out Billy; **put the question.'* 
 
 "Those in favor say 'aye,' " called the presi- 
 dent, in clear ringing tones. 
 
 A shout of ayes went up. 
 
 "Those opposed 'no.' " A few scattered noes 
 were heard. 
 
 "The ayes have it," snapped out the chair, and 
 a demonstration of delight followed such as is not 
 often seen in women's meetings. 
 
 Billy smiled languishingly into the angry eyes 
 of the Spy. 
 
 "You can go now, ladles," she said sweetly, 
 loosing their skirts. 
 
 Then her cohorts swept down around her, and 
 
BILLY COMMITS PERSONAL VIOLENCE II 5 
 
 she was almost carried bodily to the stage. There 
 she made the speech of her life, relating the whole 
 incident of the two women jumping up and mak- 
 ing for the door when they knew that enough were 
 present to pass the bill. 
 
 "Clean out the spies," she cried; "clean 'em 
 out. We know they're in here. This Associa- 
 tion can never do business with a gang of traitors 
 inside. I move that" — calling the two women by 
 name — "be expelled from this Association." 
 
 The motion was carried with a whoop. 
 
 The papers next morning were the climax of 
 all that had gone before. Billy — a very good 
 caricature portrait — was represented as a strap- 
 ping, giant fishwife sitting placidly upon two 
 timid shrinking little females. The reign of per- 
 sonal violence in the Teachers' Association was 
 feelingly depicted. Editors who had read un- 
 moved in their own papers accounts of knock- 
 down and drag-out methods in local politics, 
 shooting scrapes in ward meetings and abundant 
 arrests at the polls on election day, gravely com- 
 mented upon the unfitness of women for political 
 action shown by the episode. 
 
 But it did not work entirely. The audience to 
 which they had been catering was an audience that 
 laughed at the fellow that got licked, no matter 
 what the merits of his case. They still laughed, 
 but now the laugh was at the other side, not at 
 Billy. 
 
CHAPTER VIII 
 In Which Billy Gets a Scare 
 
 THE two most Important accessions to Billy's 
 forces made by this campaign were Pro- 
 fessor Andrews and Kate Miller. 
 
 It is now good form among representative men 
 in the teaching profession to deprecate the use 
 of the word "professor" as applied to them- 
 selves; and Mr. Andrews certainly had no right 
 whatever to the title. 
 
 But the complimentary titles given by the Amer- 
 ican people, at which foreigners laugh, are not 
 to be despised. They are compliments, and in- 
 tended as such; titles granted without form or 
 ceremony by the people, nominally the sovereign 
 in a democracy, as the sovereign grants them 
 formally in a monarchy. Mr. Andrews' teachers 
 never called him "Andy," or "Andrews," or "Old 
 Andrews," after their manner of reference to 
 Brackett and Dreiser. They always spoke of him 
 as Professor Andrews; just as they had always 
 called the former superintendent Dr. Haswell, 
 though he was never doctor of anything until late 
 
 1x6 
 
BILLY GETS A SCARE II7 
 
 in life when a university gave him an honorary 
 degree. 
 
 Professor Andrews was principal of the Boys' 
 Classical High School, the crack school of the 
 city. Many of the ablest young professional men 
 in the city had taken their college preparatory 
 course under him, and he stood high among them. 
 He was one of Dr. Haswell's men, and a man of 
 the same type, although many years younger. 
 Dreiser had not yet interfered with him or his 
 teaching staff in any way. 
 
 He came to Billy the day after she got her bill 
 adopted by the Association; a stocky man, with 
 short brown beard and pleasant eyes, strolling 
 leisurely through P. S. 43, shaking hands with 
 spies and trusties alike, and strewing jokes along 
 his way. Ending his cruise in Billy's room, he 
 remarked, "Billy boy, I guess youVe got about 
 all you can tend to without putting that bill 
 through the legislature. It isn't fair to let you 
 do it all. If you want me to take the bill off your 
 hands, I'll do the best I can to put it through. 
 I've got a good man to introduce It; old boy of 
 mine, in the legislature now, but we mustn't lay 
 that up against him. I'll keep track of It and 
 lobby for it, and arrange the hearing on it before 
 whatever committee It's referred to. Think you 
 can trust me with it?" 
 
 "Oh, Professor Andrews ! Trust you with it I" 
 exclaimed Billy gratefully. 
 
Il8 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 "Well, I didn't know/' said he; "you seem to 
 be in a sceptical mood nowadays, from all I can 
 hear; don't seem to be trusting anybody enough 
 to hurt you any." 
 
 "It's awfully good of you," said Billy, almost 
 with tears in her eyes. 
 
 "Not at all," said the professor; "you women 
 aren't the only pebbles on the beach. Some men 
 going to be affected by that bill, too. Pretty 
 good little bill, from all I can hear." 
 
 "You don't mean to say you've ever felt the 
 need of it. Professor Andrews?" 
 
 He shook his head at her solemnly. 
 
 "These be parlous times, Billy, parlous times. 
 I don't know what parlous times be, but that's 
 what they are. I ain't so high and mighty my- 
 self that I can't see the good of that little old bill 
 of yours." 
 
 It was a great relief to Billy to have the bill 
 taken off her hands. She had had it drawn up, 
 Sarah McPike's brother, an Irish lawyer keen 
 as tacks, doing that for her without charge. But 
 she was entirely inexperienced in getting a bill 
 through the legislature, and resigned the responsi- 
 bility of that task with joy. McPike had friends 
 in the legislature whom he declared he could get 
 for the bill. He had become keenly interested in 
 it himself, not only for his sister's sake, but be- 
 cause of his own temperament. There never was 
 a good fight on anywhere that the Irish weren't 
 
BILLY GETS A SCARE II9 
 
 in on, and Sarah McPike was becoming Billy's 
 right hand "man." 
 
 A legislative committee was formed, which con- 
 tained representatives from the Teachers' Asso- 
 ciation, the high school teachers and the principals. 
 Professor Andrews was chairman, Billy and the 
 two McPikes were on it, and also a representative 
 of the Woman's Club. Mrs. Andrews was a mem- 
 ber of this big, rich club, and she had succeeded 
 in interesting the president, a woman of brains, 
 wealth and high social standing. Everything 
 seemed going well. Not a single word had ap- 
 peared in the newspapers about the bill since these 
 powerful friends came forward and took it up. 
 Through the president of the Woman's Club, 
 Billy was invited to address that large and influen- 
 tial body of women upon the merits of the bill. 
 She looked somewhat fearfully for cartoons the 
 next morning. However, her name was not men- 
 tioned, altliough she was the speaker of the day, 
 and the remaining features of the programme 
 were all noticed. 
 
 As for Kate Miller, she joined the procession 
 on that famous day when Billy held two members 
 to their duty by their skirts. She was a high 
 school teacher, and had joined the grade teach- 
 ers' organization merely on account of the pen- 
 sion fund. She seldom attended a meeting, and 
 took no part in the organization except to pay her 
 dues. She was one of those whom the newspaper 
 
120 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 advertising had brought to the now celebrated 
 meeting. 
 
 At the close of the meeting she sought out Billy 
 and said In her decided voice and precise manner, 
 
 "Miss Pennington, your action here today has 
 shamed me Into a decision which I have long had 
 in contemplation, but shunned through unworthy 
 motives. If you can do what you are doing, and 
 encounter the opposition and danger that you are 
 encountering, I can certainly perform a duty which 
 I have too long neglected." 
 
 Miss Miller was one of the characters and in- 
 stitutions of the Bartown schools. She was dis- 
 tinctly an old maid. Some spinsters never be- 
 come old maids; but Kate had been one at 25, yes 
 at 20. She was one of that type of American 
 women — It is doubtful whether it exists as a type 
 in other lands or not — In which sex feeling seems 
 to have been left out of the composition. 
 
 Nobody had ever been able to Imagine Kate as 
 either having a beau or wanting one. The most 
 censorious tongue. In her silliest age, had never 
 accused Kate of being *'crazy over the boys," or 
 "trying to catch a husband." 
 
 It is modern to call such women "under-sexed" ; 
 but in the maternal and sisterly feelings typical 
 of their sex they are very strong. The tie of 
 blood is a hook of steel with them. If there Is 
 an old mother or a tuberculous brother or a crip- 
 pled sister, or any sort of a family burden or 
 
BILLY GETS A SCARE 121 
 
 ne*er-do-well, or non-producer, the "under-sexed" 
 woman Is the one most frequently at the helm, la- 
 boring with iron devotion and protective instinct 
 to keep the family together. In Kate's case it had 
 been a brood of young nieces and nephews, chil- 
 dren of a d^ad brother. Their young mother 
 went off and married again, had enough to do 
 with her second family, and left the first one to 
 Kate. 
 
 Women of this type have rarely any sense of 
 dress. Miss Miller was famed for the shabbi- 
 ness of her clothes. This was partly because it 
 irritated Kate to have to bother with clothes; 
 partly because of poverty, and partly because her 
 assured position in the community had never de- 
 pended upon her looks. She was a sad frump. 
 Her scant grey hair was strained tightly back and 
 plastered in a tiny, tight ring behind. Her smart 
 little face was a map of wrinkles. She wore no 
 corsets, she sported a ^'basque" of the vintage of 
 '77 when other women were wearing one-piece 
 empire gowns, her shabby old beaver coat had 
 done service for years, her hat dated back to 
 prehistoric times. No one, however, ever saw 
 Miss Miller in soiled or spotted clothes. She was 
 clean just as she was decent, not because It was 
 attractive but because she couldn't be anything 
 else. 
 
 Miss Miller was an extraordinary teacher of 
 mathematics. Had she been a man, with the de- 
 
122 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 grees she had taken, the chair of mathematics in 
 some great university would have been open to 
 her. Being a woman, the high school or the wom- 
 an's college was the best she could do. For 
 thirty years she had taught mathematics in the 
 Bartown high schools, and no dimming of her 
 matchless powers could be seen. A splendid dis- 
 ciplinarian, no pupil ever laughed at her quaint- 
 ness. Students who desired to progress respected 
 her highly. Fresh kids found the laugh of the 
 class turned against themselves by some dry re- 
 mark of Miss Miller's which sent them into blush- 
 ing retirement. In these days of overwhelming 
 attention to "front," It Is a question if it Is not 
 desirable to have high school pupils perceive oc- 
 casionally that there are some people so able that 
 they do not need to dress their part. 
 
 Billy watched with curiosity to see what Miss 
 Miller was going to do. The next thing the teach- 
 ers knew Kate Miller had called a meeting of the 
 forty-seven teachers of Algebra in the Bartown 
 high schools. All had attended, all had voted 
 affirmatively on a resolution condemning the Alge- 
 bra in use as a poor, unsuitable book. 
 
 This resolution was addressed to Superintend- 
 ent Dreiser, and it petitioned him to permit them 
 to name three textbooks from which he should 
 select one to be used in the schools. The reso- 
 lution further set forth, in terms uninteresting to 
 the general reader, the reasons why the instruc- 
 
BILLY GETS A SCARE 1 23 
 
 tors found the book unsatisfactory. The entire 
 forty-seven teachers, men and women, signed this 
 petition. It was the strongest of all testimony to 
 Miss Miller's standing among her colleagues. 
 
 Miss Miller offered to sign it first, as the chair- 
 man of the sub-committee appointed to draw it up. 
 This was vetoed, and the signatures were ap- 
 pended in alphabetical order. 
 
 It was known throughout the schools that the 
 petition had gone to the superintendent, and dis- 
 cussion was rife. Exactly the same point was 
 at issue as in the case of Mrs. Merrill. But in 
 this case forty-seven persons instead of one were 
 in rebellion. 
 
 "What can he do?'^ was the general query. 
 "He can't fire the whole forty-seven. He won't 
 
 dare fire and ," naming two well-known 
 
 men teachers. "He can't fire part and not all, 
 when they've all signed." 
 
 The general opinion was that a number of the 
 daring teachers would be dropped at the end of 
 the current year, another section the next year, 
 and so on till all the offenders had been worked 
 out on some valid excuse. 
 
 Two weeks went by, and not a word had been 
 heard from the petition. No answer was re- 
 turned to it; Dreiser gave no sign that he had ever 
 received it. 
 
 Then suddenly, like wildfire, there ran through 
 the schools the news that Kate Miller had re- 
 
124 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 signed and with it ran the reason for which she 
 had been asked to resign. No one breathed it 
 aloud; it was mentioned in horrified whispers, and 
 even women of Dreiser's appointment looked sick. 
 
 Dreiser himself had gone before the commit- 
 tee on teachers and asked to have her resignation 
 requested. He did this with great reluctance, he 
 stated, particularly as it was in the middle of the 
 school year, and more particularly as it concerned 
 an old and able teacher. He had been carrying 
 the thing on his mind for some time, but had 
 finally decided that the good of the schools de- 
 manded this action on his part. 
 
 No one denied, he said, that Miss Miller was 
 an excellent teacher of mathematics, but he could 
 not feel that this should retain in the schools a 
 person who was unfit in her personal habits to 
 provide a good example for the girls under her 
 charge. 
 
 "There are plenty of excellent teachers of 
 mathematics,'* he said, "both men and women. 
 There are even young, attractive women, beauti- 
 ful models of womanhood, to place before our 
 girls and boys, who are excellent teachers of 
 mathematics." 
 
 The committee agreed with him absolutely. 
 Klein, the chairman, was vociferous. 
 
 "I wouldn't let a girl stand behind my notion 
 counter that you could smell," said he; "it's an 
 
BILLY GETS A SCARE 1 25 
 
 outrage to have a woman that you can smell in 
 the schools/' 
 
 One member of the committee, not in doubt 
 but in surprise, said it was strange this Miller 
 woman could teach in the schools thirty years and 
 not have such a thing discovered before. 
 
 Dreiser gave a peculiar smile. 
 
 ^'Doubtless it was discovered," he said softly, 
 "but not reported. We all know old Dr. Has- 
 welPs hatred of turning off a teacher. It does 
 infinite credit to his kind heart, but it was not 
 always good for the schools." 
 
 "I should say not," exploded Klein; "a woman 
 that smells! Ugh!" 
 
 "Don't be too hard on her, Mr. Klein," said 
 the superintendent; "I feel sorry for her myself. 
 But it is a proof of what I have said ever since 
 I came to Bartown. The schools need new blood." 
 
 All this spread through the teaching ranks with 
 a swiftness and amplitude that indicated that some 
 one wanted it thoroughly disseminated. 
 
 Billy got the full horror of it, like a blow in 
 the face, from the Spy, who hastened to tell her 
 the news after school on the day it happened. 
 Billy staggered back. 
 
 "Oh I" she said. "Oh!" 
 
 The Spy stared at her, smiling. 
 
 "It's very sad, is It not?" she said. "I feel so 
 sorry for poor Mr. Dreiser. It must have been 
 so painful to him. In fact he told me himself 
 
126 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 he had been delaying It for weeks because he could 
 not bring himself to do it, even though he felt 
 it was Inevitable." 
 
 "Go out," said Billy sharply; *'go out of my 
 room." 
 
 "My dear Miss Pennington, please pardon me 
 for Intruding," said the Spy; "I only came to tell 
 you because I knew Miss Miller was such a warm 
 friend of yours and I thought perhaps you would 
 like to know." 
 
 Then she went. 
 
 Billy leaned against her desk, with shaking 
 hands and limbs. The devilish Ingenuity of the 
 thing was apparent to her; the Impossibility of 
 any woman denying such a thing, or allowing it 
 to be made pubHc In any way. 
 
 And suddenly, for the first time, a feeling of 
 fear entered Billy's mind. She had had no fear, 
 because she had resigned herself to the loss of 
 her position, and she had thought that this was 
 all these people could do to her. 
 
 But she saw that It was not enough for them 
 to discharge people. They had to discharge them 
 smirched, and plausibly smirched. They said 
 Miss Harcourt was crazy, and her nervous break- 
 down gave color to the charge. They said Miss 
 Miller smelled, and her shabby, threadbare, 
 tasteless appearance would give color to the 
 charge to anyone who did not know. 
 
 Her own discharge had not come yet. When 
 
BILLY GETS A SCARE 1 27 
 
 it did, what would they say of her? From what 
 cesspool would they pick the mud to fling at her? 
 
 She went out into the hall to seek one of her 
 good friends among the teachers. On the thresh- 
 old she saw Brackett advancing towards her at the 
 far end of the hall. She hesitated and would 
 have turned back, but the thought came to her 
 that he would understand and come straight to 
 her room. 
 
 So she walked on. Far down the hall she saw 
 him laughing. As they approached each other 
 he continued to laugh, his eyes fixed on her face. 
 He made no sound, but his mouth was wide open, 
 and he shook with his laughter. 
 
 Brackett was a very fat man. He always wore 
 rubber heels and walked very slowly, with soft, 
 heavy footsteps, his hands clasped behind him. 
 His fat was not healthy. It lay upon him mushy, 
 fibreless, like lard. He had a pasty, unwhole- 
 some look. The only color in his face was on 
 the rims of his lower eyelids, which were always 
 red and inflamed. There was an indefinable 
 touch of degeneracy about him; a hint of some- 
 thing foul. 
 
 The first adjective anyone would apply to him 
 was "sluggish." But sluggish means like to slugs; 
 and that is exactly what he reminded Billy of as 
 he passed her; of those fat white slugs in the 
 garden, crawling. 
 
128 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 She went straight to Andrews. She found him 
 very sober. 
 
 "It's a bad business," said he; "hard business 
 to get any proof on, one way or another. The 
 chap that teaches Algebra in my school is a bril- 
 liant young fellow. He's accepted an appoint- 
 ment already in one of the big universities next 
 year. When he heard this thing he was quite hot. 
 He jumped to the conclusion immediately that it 
 was on account of the Algebra business, and he's 
 so down on that Algebra they have to use that 
 he posted straight off to Dreiser and accused him 
 to his face of sacrificing Miss Miller on account 
 of the petition." 
 
 "What happened?" said Billy. 
 
 Andrews shook his head. 
 
 "I don't know," he said; "Dreiser got around 
 him some way. He came back all cooled down. 
 Dreiser told him In the first place that he didn't 
 even know that Miss Miller had taken any prom- 
 inent part in getting up the petition. We know 
 that's a lie, but there's no way to prove it. Then 
 he said he had taken the Algebra matter under 
 careful consideration, and would send a formal 
 reply soon. He said he had no idea there was 
 such a feeling about the book; that the Columbian 
 books stood high, and he had simply accepted it 
 without looking Into it specially. He gave the 
 impression that he would in all likelihood grant 
 the petition as soon as he had time to thoroughly 
 
BILLY GETS A SCARE 1 29 
 
 consider the matter. This chap of mine came 
 back all mollified. He said of course you couldn't 
 tell whether the charge was true or not unless you 
 got up close to her." 
 
 *'How is It that man has such power over peo- 
 ple?" exclaimed Billy desperately. 
 
 "People that play the game that Dreiser's play- 
 ing always have power over people," said An- 
 drews. "That's the reason they can play it. He 
 wins and conciliates a man like this teacher of 
 mine, who might make him trouble, and strikes 
 where he can strike without danger. This stroke 
 at Miss Miller is a warning to every teacher who 
 doesn't wish to lose his position. It is a warning 
 particularly to the women teachers, and particu- 
 larly to you, Billy." 
 
 "Oh, I practically resigned my job long ago," 
 said Billy. 
 
 "Yes, but it's evident Dreiser doesn't fire peo- 
 ple without a good excuse. That's part of his 
 cool, careful game. Take care, Billy; he'll get 
 something on you." 
 
 "I've thought of that," said Billy, "but never 
 mind me. What shall we do about Miss Miller?" 
 
 "You go to her," replied Andrews. "Go and 
 ask her. Tell her we will do just what she wants 
 us to." 
 
 "Nobody has seen her, and they say she won't 
 see anybody." 
 
 "She'll see you," said Andrews. 
 
130 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 He proved to be right. Billy was admitted at 
 Miss Miller's flat. She found the old teacher 
 looking broken and helpless. She seemed sud- 
 denly transformed into a feeble old woman. 
 Hard work and poverty had left her wiry and 
 cheerful all her life. But this was disgrace; and 
 it wilted her. 
 
 "Do? What can you do, child," she said. 
 "You can't do anything. Can you all go before 
 the School Board and declare that I don't smell? 
 Will that be any proof? Shall I invite the School 
 Board to come here and find out for themselves if 
 Dreiser speaks the truth? And wouldn't they say 
 I'd taken a bath since? And what would the pa- 
 pers be saying? No, no, Billy, I can't go through 
 with a thing like that. I'm an old woman. I'm 
 fifty-five years old. I haven't very much longer 
 to live. The only thing you can do for me is to 
 not let this thing become public." 
 
 "Oh, Miss Miller, old I" cried Billy. "You're 
 in the very zenith of your powers. Would a col- 
 lege professor of mathematics be old at fifty- 
 five?" 
 
 "But this thing has broken me," said Miss Mil- 
 ler, bursting into tears. "I looked forward to an 
 honorable old age. If they didn't want me any 
 longer, why did they have to kick me out like 
 that? I would have gone, at the end of the year, 
 without the necessity of any such disgrace." 
 
 "Oh, Miss Miller," said Billy, "you know why 
 
BILLY GETS A SCARE IJI 
 
 they did it. On account of the Algebra business, 
 to frighten the rest of us. And it was I got you 
 into this thing, Miss Miller. You never would 
 have done it if it hadn't been for me. And now 
 the blow falls on you instead of me." 
 
 "Never mind that," said Miss Miller; "it was 
 the right thing to do. It was shameful that I 
 left it for a child like you to show me my duty." 
 
 "But this isn't the end of it," said Billy; "this 
 fight is going straight on, and if we win out you'll 
 go back to your old position. Listen." 
 
 They had a long talk over the state of affairs, 
 and at the end Miss Miller was more cheerful. 
 
 "If there's anything I can do, Billy," she said 
 eagerly, "call on me. Send me clerical work, 
 utilize my services in any way that will save money 
 for the Association." 
 
 "What are you going to be doing?" asked 
 Billy. 
 
 "Oh, the children can support me. They're all 
 earning now. We'll let the hired girl go, and I'll 
 do the housework. My nieces and nephews know 
 that I bathe quite often. They are not afraid to 
 eat my cooking," she finished with a wry smile. 
 
 "To think of "a woman that can teach Geome- 
 try as you can peeling potatoes," said Billy 
 wrathfuUy. 
 
 "There are mysteries in this thing," she said 
 to Ethel that night. 
 
 "It's a mystery what they did to the papers to 
 
132 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 silence them all. It's a mystery why I haven't 
 been fired long ago. 
 
 "And now it's a mystery why they've fired Miss 
 Miller instead of me. I would have been a more 
 marked example than she. I was the logical one 
 to fire." 
 
 "It must be as Professor Andrews says," said 
 Ethel, "they're waiting to get something good 
 on you." 
 
 "That's nonsense," said Billy. "Insubordina- 
 tion is always a reason for discharge, any time 
 of the year. After the things I have said in pub- 
 lic meetings about them they could fire me any 
 minute, and public opinion would support them." 
 
CHAPTER IX 
 
 In Which Billy Goes to the Legislature 
 
 EVENTS marched on apace with the tenure 
 of office bill. Teachers all over the state 
 were rousing to action, writing for information, 
 promising to work with their representatives at 
 the capitol, and to be present at the hearing. 
 Many papers over the state gave a friendly para- 
 graph in their editorials. 
 
 The delegate to the legislative committee from 
 the Woman's Club had become deeply interested. 
 She was a rich woman with leisure and considera- 
 ble previous experience in pushing measures in 
 which the club had been interested. She offered 
 to move down to the state capital, open headquar- 
 ters at the principal hotel at her own expense, 
 and lobby for the bill. 
 
 This for the teachers, prevented by their pro- 
 fessional duties from spending much time at the 
 capital, was great good fortune. They had ex- 
 pected to be obliged to employ an agent to look 
 after the bill, and when she relieved them of this 
 entire expense it was a windfall. 
 
 A typewriting machine was secured for Miss 
 133 
 
134 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 Miller, and she did quantities of clerical work for 
 the Association, directing envelopes, preparing 
 circulars and the like, saving money for the teach- 
 ers and bringing the only consolation possible 
 into the poor old woman's life. 
 
 Denny McPike was the attorney for the Trades 
 Assembly, a parliament composed of delegates 
 from the trades unions of the city. Through his 
 influence Billy was permitted to address the As- 
 sembly. They had demurred at first, on the 
 ground that the matter was of no interest to 
 them. 
 
 "They're working people, just the same as 
 you," said Denny; "anything that strengthens and 
 improves the position of any class of workers is 
 good for the general movement." 
 
 "Ye-es," said the president of the Assembly, 
 with whom he was talking, "but that's rather far- 
 fetched, Dinnis, me son. These schoolma'ams 
 have no idea of reckoning themselves in with us. 
 They'd never come near us if they didn't want 
 something of us." 
 
 "Then here's a chance to educate them," said 
 McPike. "When they want something is the time 
 to get something out of them. Your children have 
 to go to school to them. It's the part of com- 
 mon sense to get them into sympathy with your 
 movement." 
 
 "There's something in that," admitted the 
 
BILLY GOES TO THE LEGISLATURE I35 
 
 president; "anyway, whatever you say goes, 
 Denny, so bring on your girl/' 
 
 It was an absolutely uninterested audience that 
 greeted Billy on the Sunday afternoon she went 
 to the Trades Assembly; polite, since Denny Mc- 
 Pike had vouched for her, but indifferent. 
 
 They had granted her only ten minutes, and 
 she had carefully packed every fact she could 
 into a ten minutes' speech. She laid her little 
 bracelet watch on the stand before her and 
 stopped on the last second of the allotted time. 
 Some one moved her time be extended ten min- 
 utes. She talked ten minutes longer, and then an 
 enthusiastic young Irishman jumped up and 
 moved the lady be given all the time she wanted. 
 She knew better than to tire them, however, and 
 spoke only half an hour in all. 
 
 She was listened to with the utmost attention. 
 She spoke along strictly practical lines, showing 
 out of her full and abundant knowledge of the 
 schools how largely the lower grades are made 
 up of the children of workingmen, how short was 
 the period the children had in school, how impor- 
 tant it was that it should be utilized to the best 
 advantage. Then she made them understand 
 what the chalk was doing to hinder and delay this 
 process of education. She had a blackboard there, 
 and illustrated with a practical "chalk talk." 
 Then she told of the closed rooms, and the theft 
 in that direction of the children of the poor. She 
 
136 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 gave them the little arithmetic sum as to the 
 amount they had been compelled to contribute to 
 the Columbian Book Company for drawing books 
 which the teachers did not want. 
 
 Then she drove the nail home straight and true. 
 
 *'Who is protesting against these things?" she 
 demanded. "Who knows them? Do you? Has 
 one single representative of union labor said one 
 word of this outrage upon the children of union 
 men? Yes, you say, Denny McPike. And why 
 has Denny McPike taken it up? Because he has 
 a sister in the schools, and she has made him see 
 the enormity of it. Only the teachers know, only 
 the teachers will speak, and every one risks her 
 job in doing it. Fm risking my job here this 
 afternoon. Help us get this tenure of office bill 
 through, that we may not fear to speak when we 
 see things that are injuring the children." 
 
 It was a kind of audience new to Billy. The 
 leaders and officers generally, as in the whole 
 union movement, were Irish or Irish-American. 
 The linotype men were either of the old Ameri- 
 can stock or could not be distinguished from such. 
 
 From these the type ranged down to Poles, 
 Hungarians and Italians. Although unions made 
 up of this class of foreign labor always try to 
 send English-speaking members as delegates to 
 the Trades Assembly, still many of these men 
 leaned forward and evidently bent every faculty 
 to comprehend her words. They understood that 
 
BILLY GOES TO THE LEGISLATURE I37 
 
 she was speaking of schools and the children, and 
 this had a personal interest for them deeper than 
 that of many of the more intelligent men, for they 
 felt the great importance of their children being 
 educated to be "Americans." 
 
 The delegates from the Brewers' union, mostly 
 Germans, were hostile, for their only idea of a 
 woman in politics is one who wants to vote the 
 business by which they rr^ake their living out of 
 existence. Even they were much mollified, how- 
 ever, by the time she closed. 
 
 It was one of these, however, after the gener- 
 ous round of applause which followed her speech, 
 who rose and said in slightly broken English, 
 
 "The lady Is very anxious that ve vlll help get 
 her bill through. Probably it vlll help the chil- 
 dren, like she says; but ve know it vlll help the 
 teachers, anyvay. If ve do this to help the teach- 
 ers, vlll the teachers do anything at all to help 
 us?" 
 
 There was a slight laugh at this, but the meet- 
 ing as a whole was pleased with her speech. The 
 more intelligent of the men understood the full 
 force of her argument and saw that it was all to 
 their benefit. Others liked her because she was 
 young and pretty and a good speaker; others be- 
 cause they thought she was Denny McPIke's 
 "girl," and must be all right. They endorsed the 
 bill and Instructed McPIke to consider it a part 
 of the trades union legislation and help it along 
 
138 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 With the rest of their bills at the capitol that win- 
 ter. 
 
 Billy sat down and stayed through the meeting. 
 She learned a great many things which she had 
 not known before, and was deeply impressed. 
 Among the topics discussed was that of a boycott 
 on a certain unfair candy manufacturer of the 
 city. Billy listened to all that was said about this, 
 and just at the last moment, as they were about 
 to adjourn, rose and asked for one moment. 
 
 ''After I finished speaking today,*' she said, 
 "one gentleman asked if there was anything we 
 teachers would do to help the unions. I couldn't 
 answer him, because I didn't know of anything, 
 then, that we could do. But since then I have 
 listened to what you said about this candy com- 
 pany; about the way they treat their help. I 
 didn't know these things before. I want to say 
 that I think your reasons are good; these people 
 ought to be boycotted. The organization which 
 I represent here today has 2,000 women in it. I 
 want to say that I am going to fix things so that 
 not one of those 2,000 women will buy — or ac- 
 cept — one piece of that company's candy till the 
 boycott is lifted." 
 
 There was an instant's pause, and then a roar 
 of laughter and pounding of feet and hands that 
 almost scared Billy, used as she was to the lady- 
 like applause of women's meetings. The tradi- 
 tional relation between women and candy, the 
 
BILLY GOES TO THE LEGISLATURE I39 
 
 hole that 2,000 women could undoubtedly make 
 in any candy company's receipts, stirred their 
 sense of humor; and the practical help offered, 
 in a quarter which they could never have reached 
 otherwise, filled them with delight. They surged 
 around her in a tumultuous throng after adjourn- 
 ment, and McPike, who was a politician from his 
 boots up, wrung her hand and kept saying, ''Oh, 
 Billy, you're a smooth one." 
 
 Billy had no idea of being smooth. She meant 
 what she said, and set about immediately to carry 
 out her word. She had a union organizer invited 
 to the next meeting of the Association to tell of 
 conditions among the candy workers, and Billy 
 clinched it with an able little speech, in which she 
 explained what the Trades Assembly had done 
 for them, and urged the boycott, not only for 
 themselves but for all their friends. She had a 
 circular letter framed and sent to every member 
 of the Association, setting forth the facts and urg- 
 ing the boycott, in language which McPike care- 
 fully prevented from laying the Association open 
 to damages. Through Billy's efforts, also, the 
 condition among the candy workers was taken into 
 the Woman's Club, and the boycott received the 
 endorsement of a group of the richest women in 
 Bartown. The spectacle of a union boycott being 
 urged in the Woman's Club was so amazing that 
 the papers all featured it. The members of the 
 Woman's Club being persons who could buy all 
 
I40 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 the candy they wanted, the candy company became 
 alarmed, and it had a material influence on nego- 
 tiations between the company and the unions. 
 
 It was because of her efforts and success in this 
 matter that Billy was forever after called the 
 Candy Kid among the trades unions of Bartown. 
 The origin of this quaint name has often excited 
 surmise, and so far as I am aware this is the 
 first full explanation of it that has ever been 
 printed. The relations at that time established 
 between the unions and the teachers proved a use- 
 ful and valuable thing to both, informing each of 
 the other's affairs, securing a backing of votes for 
 the teachers, and carrying information and educa- 
 tion concerning the union movement into quar- 
 ters where its own members could never have in- 
 troduced it. 
 
 In such ways as this Billy was extending her 
 acquaintance and influence and gaining friends for 
 the bill all winter. The membership of the Asso- 
 ciation had gone from 1,500 to 2,000 almost at 
 a jump, and the attendance at the meetings was 
 now enormous. The papers no longer mentioned 
 either the teachers or their bill. There seemed 
 no opposition to the measure, and a great deal 
 of friendship. All these things sent Billy down 
 to the hearing, which took place late in February, 
 in a happy and buoyant mood. 
 
 The committee on education, to which the bill 
 had been referred, had granted an hour's hear- 
 
BILLY GOES TO THE LEGISLATURE I4I 
 
 ing to arguments for and against. The friends 
 were to have the first half hour, the opposition 
 twenty minutes, and the friends ten minutes In 
 rebuttal. The meeting was held in a large com- 
 mittee room, which was jammed to the doors with 
 friends of the bill, chiefly from Bartown and the 
 state capital; the committee having obligingly 
 placed the hearing on a Saturday to accommodate 
 the teachers. The only opponent that Billy could 
 see anywhere was Dreiser, though she supposed 
 there must be others. He sat beside the chairman 
 of the committee, with whom he chatted from 
 time to time. 
 
 The disposition of their short time had been 
 carefully planned In such a manner as to give It 
 a representative quality. Professor Andrews was 
 to Introduce the speakers, thus lending his per- 
 sonal backing and Influence without making a 
 speech, and representing the male element among 
 the teachers; *'mere man," as he remarked. Mc- 
 Plke spoke for the trades unions, which had made 
 the bill one of their own measures. Professor An- 
 drews' old pupil, who had Introduced the bill, 
 supported It in an able speech, representing the 
 general public. The president of the Woman's 
 Club, a handsome, distinguished-looking woman 
 of middle age, elegantly dressed and a very good 
 speaker, was supposed in their little scheme to 
 represent wealth and social influence. To Billy, 
 representing the teachers, was left the rebuttal, 
 
142 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 as it was believed she was best fitted to answer 
 offhand any objections which might be raised. 
 
 The three ten-minute speeches with which the 
 friends of the bill opened the hearing were all con- 
 cise, convincing and to the point, and were warmly 
 applauded by the throng of friends that filled the 
 room. Then the floor was given to Dreiser. 
 
 He rose slowly, and began speaking in a gentle, 
 unemotional way, without a trace of spite or sar- 
 casm, and with just a touch of deprecation and 
 regret. 
 
 "I know that I am in the minority here today," 
 he said; ''an unpopular minority. I dislike the 
 position as much as any of you can dislike to see 
 me in it. It is not pleasant for me to oppose the 
 great body of conscientious teachers who desire 
 this law. It is not pleasant to oppose a distin- 
 guished body of the best and most representative 
 women of the state." 
 
 He made a slight, courteous inclination to the 
 president of the Woman's Club. 
 
 "I am not representing the teachers here to- 
 day; I am not representing the trades unions; I 
 am not representing the ladies. I am merely rep- 
 resenting the practical management of the schools. 
 
 "In that capacity you must pardon me if I say 
 things which may not be agreeable ; things which 
 do not seem courteous; things which may not seem 
 even kindly. I say them not because I wish to 
 
BILLY GOES TO THE LEGISLATURE 1 43 
 
 say them, but because they are necessary if the 
 bearing of this bill is to be understood. 
 
 "The effect of this bill will be to make it very 
 difficult to discharge a teacher. The tendency 
 will be to make the teacher's position permanent, 
 after it has once been proved, during her proba- 
 tionary period, that she is a good and compe- 
 tent teacher. 
 
 "I understand to the full the plea of the friends 
 of this bill that after the teacher has thus shown 
 herself competent, by fulfilling her requirements 
 demanded by the law, and proving her fitness by 
 four years of practical work, she ought to feel 
 secure in her position. I appreciate to the full 
 the claim that she ought not to be discharged at 
 the whim of a superior; through personal dislike, 
 petty tyranny or nepotism. I admit the truth of 
 the claim that it will always be possible to dis- 
 charge a teacher for incompetency, neglect of 
 duty, unbecoming personal conduct, or insubordi- 
 nation. Such charges are always susceptible of 
 proof, and school authorities will not be afraid to 
 make them because they will know that public 
 opinion will support them. 
 
 "I admit all these things. I admit also that 
 the teacher is legally a part of the school system, 
 as much as the superintendent or the school board, 
 that her experience frequently renders her opin- 
 ion on school management valuable, and that she 
 should feel at full liberty to state that opinion 
 
144 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 without fear of discharge from offended su- 
 periors. 
 
 ''Nevertheless there are reasons, good, full and 
 ample reasons, why for the good of the schools 
 this bill should not pass. 
 
 "The common school teachers of this country 
 are very largely women. In 1901 only 27.8 per 
 cent, of them were men. This percentage is prob- 
 ably decreased now, and the men In the profession 
 are largely in administrative positions and spe- 
 cial lines of work which for various reasons would 
 cause the provisions of this bill to affect them 
 much less than the women who make up the solid 
 body of the teaching profession. 
 
 "The simple fact of the matter is that the posi- 
 tions of these women should not be made perma- 
 nent. They should not teach for life. Instead of 
 making It more difficult to discharge them, they 
 should be discharged more frequently than they 
 are, and younger than they are. A woman should 
 never, except in very exceptional circumstances, be 
 allowed to grow old In the schools. These are 
 facts not because of anything against their charac- 
 ter or their ability, but simply because they are 
 women." 
 
 The five pairs of eyes in the committee suddenly 
 raised themselves to Dreiser's face. A hush of 
 strained attention fell over the room. 
 
 "I yield to no man in this country in my re- 
 
BILLY GOES TO THE LEGISLATURE I45 
 
 spect for the women of the teaching profession," 
 went on Dreiser steadily. 
 
 *'It is an annual astonishment to see the charm- 
 ing young women who come out of the colleges 
 and normal schools to seek places as teachers. 
 They are in large proportion brimming with life, 
 eager, hopeful, earnest, well-bred, conscientious, 
 pretty, delightful." 
 
 His voice maintained the same gentle, respect- 
 ful tone, yet around the mouths of the commit- 
 tee members a smile began to creep. 
 
 "Now and then there is an exception," con- 
 tinued Dreiser, "but as a rule the young women 
 who enter upon teaching every year are a credit 
 to their sex and time. Teaching gets the pick of 
 women who must earn their living. No one can 
 estimate the debt which the schools of America 
 owe to this great company of well-trained, joyous, 
 attractive young women who enter it year by year. 
 
 "But this applies only to the young teacher. At 
 28 a woman teacher is at the zenith of her pow- 
 ers. Men reach their highest eligibility at 40; 
 women at 28. In the great majority of cases 
 there is a gradual but steady deterioration in her 
 powers after that age. There are exceptions, but 
 we cannot legislate for exceptions. We must legis- 
 late for the majority. 
 
 "What is the reason of this earlier cessation of 
 professional growth on the part of the woman? 
 Ah, my friends, in the answer to that lies the 
 
146 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 tragedy of the modern woman; the modern 
 woman, who seeks to keep pace with man in all 
 things, and never can; not because she is neces- 
 sarily his inferior mentally, for she may not be; 
 but simply because she is a woman. 
 
 "A man is a man whether he is a husband and 
 father or not. His life work, the fulfilment of 
 his best possibilities as an individual, lies entirely 
 aside from these personal relations. But a woman 
 is not truly a woman unless she is a wife and 
 mother. 
 
 *Man's love is of man*s life a part; 
 'Tis woman's whole existence/ 
 
 No woman realizes her best possibilities, no 
 woman leads a truly normal life, who remains 
 unmarried. 
 
 "In the complicated life of our present day the 
 marriageable age has been pushed much later for 
 both men and women than it was even a genera- 
 tion ago. In our grandmothers* day a girl of 14 
 was marriageable. In our mothers' day a girl of 
 20 who had not had an offer was called an old 
 maid. But today there is still hope for the woman 
 of 28." 
 
 The creeping smile broadened into a grin on 
 the faces of the committee. 
 
 "At 28, however, the woman who is not yet 
 bespoken, who sees no prospect of marriage be- 
 fore her, begins to lose hope. She begins to ac- 
 
BILLY GOES TO THE LEGISLATURE 1 47 
 
 cept permanent splnsterhood. She begins to see 
 stretching ahead of her the long years in which 
 she will tread the path alone, unsupported by the 
 love of man and the affections of the family. 
 From that day her efficiency as a teacher ceases 
 to grow, and begins subtly to deteriorate. In 
 some this deterioration is very marked; in some 
 very slight. In a very small percentage it is never 
 seen. They are the mannish women; the minds 
 of men in the bodies of women, and their number 
 is so few that we need not take them into account. 
 
 *'It may seem a brutal thing to say that women 
 should be discharged from the schools simply be- 
 cause they have failed to marry. But such is ab- 
 solutely the case. The abounding hope, vitality, 
 interest in life, which made them so valuable in 
 their early years of teaching, all leave them when 
 the inner conviction creeps upon them that they 
 have been left by the wayside, that the normal life 
 of woman is not to be theirs. 
 
 "But this is not all. As the schools have the 
 pick of the young women who enter the wage- 
 earning world each year, so the young men have 
 the pick of the young women who enter the 
 schools. There is no superintendent of schools in 
 the United States who has not grasped his hair 
 in despair in the merry month of June, as the 
 resignation of teacher after teacher poured in 
 upon him; dozens, scores, hundreds sometimes in 
 large cities — the very best of his flock — all leav- 
 
148 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 ing to be married. There is no superintendent, I 
 say, who has not found it in his heart to curse 
 these young men, wolves in the fold, who with 
 cheerful smiles at his dilemma, debonnairely car- 
 ried away his finest teachers. Unfortunately for 
 teaching, the young men get the first choice, and 
 they usually choose wisely. Ask any superintend- 
 ent which he would rather have for permanent 
 teachers, the women who did marry during the 
 first six years of teaching or the women who 
 didn't? Of course this does not apply to you, 
 dear sisters, who have come to this hearing to- 
 day, but the board of education thinks it true of 
 the other teachers in your building." 
 
 He made a slight, smiling inclination towards 
 the women massed at the end of the room, and 
 the committee burst out laughing. 
 
 Dreiser looked grave. 
 
 "I never laugh at this matter," said he simply. 
 "It is not to the discredit of women that so many 
 of them cannot marry. There are not men enough 
 to go around and never have been. Nevertheless 
 the result Is what I have said. Our fairest roses 
 are plucked, and those less perfect left behind." 
 
 There was a note of kindly regret, of gentle 
 pity in his tone, which touched Billy's mounting 
 anger like salt upon the raw. 
 
 **But this is not all," went on Dreiser. "These 
 insolent young men are not only carrying away 
 our finest, those left behind not only degenerate 
 
BILLY GOES TO THE LEGISLATURE 1 49 
 
 professionally, they also degenerate in those wom- 
 anly graces which are the chief excuse for their 
 presence in the schoolroom. If there is any rea- 
 son whatever why women should be in the schools, 
 when men can teach all the branches which they 
 teach just as well as they can — or better — it is 
 that types of beautiful and lovable womanhood 
 should be kept before the eyes of our boys and 
 girls. 
 
 "When a woman reaches the age when she can 
 no longer attract men, when she sees that wife- 
 hood and motherhood are not for her, she begins 
 to deteriorate in all those qualities which make 
 woman beautiful and lovable. 
 
 *'0n one occasion I sat in a city classroom, the 
 teacher of which I had known for many years. 
 When she began teaching she was a charming 
 girl, handsome, winsome, a delight to meet. Yet 
 as I sat there during the change of classes this 
 woman deliberately plunged her little finger into 
 her left ear, dug with it, and in sight of her class 
 examined the wax she had gathered and removed 
 it upon a handkerchief. 
 
 "Loathsome to tell, you remark? Unquestion- 
 ably, but what was it for her class to see, boys 
 and girls who look upon their high school teach- 
 ers as models of deportment? It was not that 
 she did not know better. At twenty-five she could 
 not have conceived doing such a thing. She would 
 have blushed at the thought of anyone else doing 
 
150 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 it. I could but reflect on the many, many steps 
 of descent that woman had dropped from the day 
 when every man she met was her admirer till now 
 when she no longer attracted anybody, or cared 
 whether she did or not so long as she drew her 
 monthly pay and her place was secure under ten- 
 ure of office rules. 
 
 ''My friends," said Dreiser gravely, "what po- 
 sition would you place a superintendent in with 
 regard to such an incident as this if you passed 
 this bill? Had that woman been on my own staff 
 I would have dropped her at the close of the year; 
 dropped her without reason or explanation given. 
 Had she come to me and demanded the reason, I 
 would have told it frankly — to her alone. But 
 no consideration would have forced me to make it 
 public. But if you pass this bill, I am either 
 forced to retain such a woman, or I am compelled 
 to disgrace and humiliate her in the eyes of the 
 public, and give her story to be spread upon the 
 pages of the newspapers. 
 
 ''I tell you, gentlemen, the men in management 
 of the schools know more of these things than 
 they ever tell or want to tell. It is a tendency 
 which boards of education have learned to rec- 
 ognize and guard against. When a woman be- 
 comes barrel-shaped she cares more for comfort 
 than for comeliness." 
 
 There was a shout of laughter from the com- 
 
BILLY GOES TO THE LEGISLATURE I5I 
 
 mittee, while the massed women sat silent, help- 
 less, with a growing sense of insult. 
 
 *'A still further reason is also connected with 
 sex," continued the speaker. 
 
 "The women teachers of America are remark- 
 ably free from scandal. There is no other class 
 equally exposed of whom the percentage who lay 
 themselves open to criticism is so small. But there 
 are few women who have been six years in the 
 public schools who have escaped indignity. How 
 many a woman who hears this can recall an an- 
 gering famiHarity of tone, perhaps of touch, when 
 she has had to deal with men to secure election 
 or carry out some project? The young woman 
 teacher soon learns that In dealing with public 
 men she Is likely to be looked at coarsely, as a 
 possible instrument of pleasure, and Is obhged 
 to answer questions and listen to suggestions 
 which are to her soul as loathsome as a grimy 
 hand upon a fresh muslin gown. It Is the ex- 
 perience of all unprotected women, and comes 
 perhaps oftenest to the teacher because by her 
 annual employment and her frequent need of 
 equipment for her work she Is oftenest obliged 
 to ask favors from men. 
 
 "No one will for a moment think that In so 
 speaking I reflect upon the teacher. No, the re- 
 flection is entirely upon men of the coarser type, 
 whose first thought of a woman Is always as an 
 animal. But public school teachers have to deal 
 
152 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 With this class of men at times; and the effect Is 
 to produce in the teacher above twenty-eight a 
 pessimism, a contempt for mankind, that is not 
 heahhful, and that boards of education shrink 
 from. We do not want the soured and pessimis- 
 tic type of womanhood in our schools, in con- 
 tact with the impressionable minds of our chil- 
 dren. We want only the trustful, happy, hope- 
 ful type of mind.'* 
 
 A feeling drifted over the women present that 
 they were all being besmirched; that in the eyes 
 of the men upon the committee every one of them 
 lay under suspicion of having suffered familiari- 
 ties to get her job. 
 
 "And last of all," went on that soft, inexorable 
 voice, "experienced boards of education have 
 learned that there Is a period, long and trying, 
 that occurs between the ages of forty and fifty 
 with women, and sometimes renders the best of 
 them for a time impossible. Above twenty-eight, 
 not a long period is required to reach this period, 
 the possibilities of which are portentous. I will 
 not say more upon It, no manly man can feel 
 aught but pity In considering this sad handicap 
 which nature has laid upon women, but never- 
 theless the schools must not be allowed to suffer 
 because of It. What man, gentlemen, what man 
 of decency, could make a public charge of this 
 kind as a reason for dismissal? And yet if you 
 pass this tenure of office bill you force him to do 
 
BILLY GOES TO THE LEGISLATURE 1 53 
 
 either that, or to allow to remain women who 
 from the very physical facts of their sex are unlit 
 to be in charge of a classroom." * 
 
 He sat down. Upon the faces of the committee 
 had crept a prurient look. They were all smiling. 
 Dreiser had not made the mistake of the novice 
 at a legislative hearing and addressed the crowd. 
 He had spoken straight to the committee, stand- 
 ing near it and using a low tone which the others 
 had to strain to hear. In effect it seemed that he 
 and the committee were in confidential confer- 
 ence, that the throng of women was out of it, 
 a negligible quantity in a matter to be decided 
 entirely by Dreiser and the legislators. 
 
 The little group of managers of the teachers' 
 bill looked with concern at Billy. It was a hard 
 speech to answer, a hard statement against which 
 to bring rebuttal. It contained things impossible 
 to disprove, it put the teachers entirely upon the 
 defensive, it turned the whole hearing into a farce, 
 and a subtly insulting farce. Mrs. Courtney, the 
 president of the Woman's Club, felt keenly that 
 a girl like Billy should not be permitted to an- 
 swer that speech; that she, the middle-aged 
 matron among the speakers, should be the one to 
 handle it. But she felt utterly helpless to do so 
 effectively, and sent a little note to Billy to this 
 effect. 
 
 * Mr. Dreiser quoted very largely in his speech, from an article 
 in the Educational Review of January, 191 2. 
 
154 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 Professor Andrews was also deeply concerned, 
 and looked at Billy questlonlngly. He would 
 have spoken if she had offered him her time. 
 McPike, red with wrath, took occasion to whis- 
 per to her that he would trim the bruiser down 
 if she wanted him to. 
 
 But Billy shook her head. The speech had 
 amazed and confounded her. The arguments 
 which she had prepared In rebuttal, covering the 
 various points on which objections were likely to 
 be made, were useless. Something new, something 
 spontaneous and impromptu must be devised. 
 The turning of the whole argument upon a ques- 
 tion of sex had been utterly unexpected. She felt 
 in one way that it was unsuitable that any young, 
 unmarried woman should answer such a speech. 
 And yet in another she felt that it was laid upon 
 her to do It; that one of the teachers themselves 
 must answer these things; for the honor and de- 
 cency of the profession; that if they could not 
 they confessed themselves Dreiser's inferiors, un- 
 able to cope with him. 
 
 These things and others boiled through her 
 mind as she sat listening to him. She had to 
 frame her answer while he was speaking. She 
 was intensely angry. She realized that she must 
 not show that anger. It is the tendency of all 
 women to cry when they are intensely angry. 
 Billy had to crush the tears back with an ex- 
 traordinary effort. She realized that it was not 
 
BILLY GOES TO THE LEGISLATURE 1 55 
 
 SO much an argument for the bill which she was 
 called upon to produce, as an effect; some effect, 
 in some way, which should destroy that created 
 by Dreiser. 
 
 While he had been speaking she had scribbled 
 a little note to Denny McPike. On reading it he 
 had slipped out of the room, and on his return 
 handed to her a yellow pamphlet. On rising to 
 speak she held this pamphlet in her hand. 
 
 She stood looking at the committee a moment. 
 The members, on their part, surveyed her with 
 attention. It had been a dry hearing, except for 
 the wit and humor introduced into it by Dreiser. 
 They were pleased and interested to see a woman 
 so young and beautiful as Billy advance into the 
 ring. They had been smiling continuously 
 throughout Dreiser's speech. The expression of 
 this collective smile now grew pleased and in- 
 dulgent. It came over Billy that what she wanted 
 to do was not to get the bill through or even an- 
 swer Dreiser, but just to wipe off that smile : just 
 to wipe that smile off their faces and make them 
 look uncomfortable for one minute. 
 
 "The gentleman who preceded me made the 
 statement," she began, **that the reason women 
 remained single was because there were not men 
 enough to go around and never had been. I have 
 in my hand one of the reports of the last Fed- 
 eral census, brought me from the state library. I 
 
156 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 find from its figures that there are two million 
 more men than women in the United States. 
 
 "This would indicate that if there were a gen- 
 eral round up, and all the marriageable persons 
 of both sexes were forced to pair off, that some 
 two million men would have to flock by them- 
 selves." She paused one second. "Mr. Dreiser 
 is not married, I believe," she said. 
 
 The whole room laughed, and the committee 
 lay back and whooped. It was playing to the 
 gallery, and Billy knew it, but she wanted some 
 sharp and sudden stab to turn the laugh from the 
 teachers, where Dreiser had had it the last half 
 hour, and against himself, and this was all she 
 could think of. Dreiser himself laughed as hard 
 as anyone, and clapped his hands. 
 
 "I don't blame Mr. Dreiser a bit," went on 
 Billy, in a perfectly reasonable tone, "for liking 
 young women better than old ones. All men do 
 that. It is just the same with women. Those 
 young girls now, whom Mr. Dreiser admires so 
 much, probably think a good deal more of boys of 
 their own age than they do of a man as old as 
 Mr. Dreiser, for instance. 
 
 "Then as to the older women who don't seem 
 to care anything about attracting men any more, 
 I know just how the last speaker feels about it. 
 We women teachers have just the same experience 
 with some of the men in the schools. Some of 
 them don't seem to care a snap whether we ad- 
 
BILLY GOES TO THE LEGISLATURE 1 57 
 
 mire them or not. There is one who will come to 
 school with his coat collar all covered with 
 dandruff." 
 
 Every eye in the room, as if moved by a crank, 
 turned to Dreiser^s coat collar. 
 
 "It pains us,'* continued Billy, "to see that some 
 of them wear their nails in piourning, and that 
 now and then there is one who must omit to brush 
 his teeth, because he has a very bad breath." 
 
 This discourse was punctuated throughout with 
 laughter. It was a base mode of warfare, but 
 Billy felt that it had been forced upon her. 
 
 "We never thought before of referring to these 
 things in public," she said, speaking straight to 
 the committee. "It didn't seem either polite or 
 necessary to us. But since the gentleman says 
 some of us are not pretty, we must remind him 
 that that Is true of both men and women, not 
 only in the schools, but everywhere. 
 
 "The gentleman claims that only the young 
 women under 28 are good teachers. If that is so, 
 it's queer that whenever you find a woman in any 
 high office in the schools, getting a good salary — 
 as good as a man's — she Is sure to be an older 
 woman. Forty per cent, of the principals of the 
 St. Louis schools are women; forty-five per cent, 
 of those in New York and Bartown; 6^ per cent, 
 in Philadelphia. You won't find a girl under 28 
 in the lot. Queer how these unattractive old 
 
158 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 things manage to nail all the good jobs, and with 
 men to appoint them, too. 
 
 "The United States government has kept a 
 woman superintendent of its Indian schools for 
 years. I have met her; she's no spring chicken 
 now I tell you. 
 
 ''Mr. Dreiser says that very few women es- 
 cape indignities from men in securing their posi- 
 tions." Billy's voice rang out sharp and clear. 
 
 "This is interesting, considering that not a 
 woman can secure a position in the schools of 
 Bartown except through Mr. Dreiser. 
 
 "I do not know whether Mr. Dreiser's state- 
 ment Is true or not. I was not appointed by Mr. 
 Dreiser. I was appointed by Dr. Haswell. Dr. 
 Haswell was superintendent of the Bartown 
 schools for twenty-five years, and I wish to say 
 that during his Incumbency the schools of the 
 metropolis of this state were famous throughout 
 the civilized world. 
 
 "The Roseberry commission, appointed by the 
 British government to examine the metropolitan 
 school systems of America, France and Germany, 
 reported that taking Into consideration the size 
 of the city, the extent and difficulties of the for- 
 eign population to be dealt with, and the results 
 obtained, the city of Bartown stood at the head 
 of the great cities of those three countries in its 
 schools. 
 
 "The system that won that international com- 
 
BILLY GOES TO THE LEGISLATURE 1 59 
 
 mendation, that placed the name of this state 
 upon the lips of every educator the world over, 
 was not built up under the man who has spoken 
 here today. It was built up under Dr. Haswell, 
 and it is Dr. Haswell's old teachers and princi- 
 pals who are here urging the passage of this bill. 
 I have heard Dr. Haswell make many addresses 
 on school matters, hundreds of them, I think. I 
 never heard him make any such plea as his suc- 
 cessor has made here today, and neither did any- 
 one else. I challenge anyone in this state, any- 
 one in these United States, to instance one occa- 
 sion on which Dr. Haswell found it necessary to 
 slur the women teachers of the schools ; to sneer at 
 and ridicule them as has been done here this 
 morning. 
 
 "He never did It. He never found it neces- 
 sary to do it. He respected the women who 
 taught under him, and they respected him. I 
 taught under Dr. Haswell. I am personally ac- 
 quainted with hundreds of women who taught un- 
 der him. I never heard one of them refer to In- 
 dignities received under his regime. If condi- 
 tions have changed under Mr. Dreiser — why, he 
 is the one best qualified to know, and you have 
 heard what he has said." 
 
 The smile had come off now. Every member 
 of the committee was sitting straight up and star- 
 ing hard at the speaker. It was not in order for 
 a pretty little girl like this to talk in this sledge- 
 
l60 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 hammer way to and about men. They had not 
 expected it. Yet they all knew the name of Has- 
 well. Her words carried conviction, and she had 
 skilfully touched the chords of state and local 
 pride. 
 
 "Mr. Dreiser's argument, as I understand it, 
 is that because women suffer these 'indignities' " 
 — she emphasized each ''because" — "because they 
 must endure 'angering familiarities,' because some 
 men think of a woman first 'as an animal' — the 
 words are his, not mine — therefore as soon as a 
 girl has acquired sense and experience enough to 
 resent these things, she should be discharged 
 from the schools. 
 
 "That is his argument. 
 
 "Gentlemen, I know nothing of the family life 
 of any member of this committee. But I know 
 enough about American life in general to feel sure 
 that there Is not a man among you who has not 
 somewhere or other a woman relative who is 
 earning her living. If It Is not a daughter or sis- 
 ter, it Is a cousin or some more distant connec- 
 tion. I want to put it up to you gentlemen, I 
 want to ask you as American men, what you think 
 of the proposition deliberately made here today, 
 that because these women may be insulted by cads 
 or brutes — such as Mr. Dreiser says the men that 
 run the schools are — because of this these women 
 should be discharged from their positions as soon 
 as they show resentment for this treatment." 
 
BILLY GOES TO THE LEGISLATURE l6l 
 
 The smile was all off now. Not one gleam of 
 amusement showed In any look bent upon Billy. 
 To himself Denny McPike was saying, *'0h, Billy, 
 ye little divvle ye." 
 
 **Mr. Dreiser," went on Billy, ^'asserts that the 
 old teacher is not a good teacher, that she is not 
 the right type of womanhood to have before the 
 children, that she ought to be discharged, and 
 ought not to be allowed to grow old in the schools. 
 
 "I know just one man upon this committee to- 
 day. I know him, although he does not know me ; 
 the gentleman from Bartown, Mr. James B. 
 Munson. I know him because he is very well 
 known in the city of Bartown, and I have heard 
 him speak at public meetings more than once." 
 
 Everybody looked at Mr. Munson, and that 
 gentleman looked slightly apprehensive. 
 
 "I remember the first time I ever heard Mr. 
 Munson speak," went on Billy. 
 
 "It was the night he graduated from Public 
 School 59. He was the valedictorian of his class. 
 Mr. Munson has had many triumphs since then, 
 but I venture to say not one of them has ever 
 been so sweet to him as the one he had that 
 night." 
 
 Mr. Munson tried to preserve an inscrutable 
 expression, but he could not help looking pleasant. 
 "Oh, Billy, ye darlin'," communed Mr. McPike 
 with his soul; "and her a-praisin' up that ward 
 heeler." 
 
1 62 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 *'I was a little girl then," said Billy; *'but I 
 went to those graduating exercises that night In 
 the big assembly hall In old P. S. 59. I went with 
 my mother, because I went to school In old 59. I 
 was a schoolmate of Mr. Munson's, though he 
 doesn't know It. I was a little girl down in the 
 fifth grade when he was the valedictorian of the 
 graduating class. 
 
 "I heard him give the valedictory that night. 
 His mother was there. I remember her, an old 
 grey-haired lady she was; I remember because 
 my mother went up to speak to her and congratu- 
 late her after the exercises were over, and she 
 was so pleased that she was crying. 
 
 "Mr. Munson graduated from 59; he grew up 
 in 59; he never went to any other school. That 
 was In old Dr. Haswell's time. Dr. Haswell kept 
 one woman at the head of 59 for years. He 
 wasn't afraid to let her grow old in the schools. 
 She did grow old In the schools. She was prin- 
 cipal of 59 for 30 years, and not only Mr. Mun- 
 son but many another man who plays an able 
 and honorable part In the public affairs of Bar- 
 town got the whole of his schooling under Miss 
 Margaret Lawrence. Former Mayor Adolph 
 Wurz was one of them. 
 
 "I know those old boys of 59 respected Miss 
 Lawrence, because when she completed her 25th 
 year as principal of that school, her former pu- 
 
BILLY GOES TO THE LEGISLATURE 1 63 
 
 pils gave her a banquet; and that was another 
 time when I heard Mr. Munson speak. 
 
 *'Many of her old boys, now prominent men 
 in Bartown, attended that banquet and spoke that 
 night, and they gave her a present; a round trip, 
 six months' ticket to Europe. I remember when 
 she stood up to receive it — a little grey-haired 
 woman in the midst of all those well-known men, 
 and how we all stood up and cheered her, and 
 how proud and pleased she looked." 
 
 The girl had kept her eyes fixed on Munson's 
 face. She had watched it change and soften. 
 
 "Miss Lawrence is dead now," said Billy, 
 gently. *'Some one else sits in her old office at 
 59 — that old office where the teachers used to 
 send us when they couldn't stand us a minute lon- 
 ger. She's gone, along with our childhood. But 
 she was a part of that childhood. She had a hand 
 in making us what we are. If we're of any ac- 
 count in the world, she has a right to part of the 
 credit." 
 
 The girl's beautiful, silvery voice dropped each 
 word sweetly. There are infinite chords to be 
 touched in all of us. Each reacts with its appro- 
 priate feeling, each brings its own expression to 
 the face. The speaker was touching now that 
 oldest chord of sentiment, the recollection of 
 childhood and its familiar scenes. Billy had that 
 first essential of the orator: she forgot herself 
 when she began to speak. She was no longer 
 
1 64 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 angry. The response of her audience, intense and 
 highstrung on the part of the great mass of it, 
 had touched her into exaltation. She was self- 
 hypnotized. 
 
 *'Mr. Dreiser doesn't know much about the 
 Bartown schools," she went on gently, her eyes 
 on Munson's face. "He hasn't been in Bartown 
 very long, or in this state very long. But Mr. 
 Munson and I are old-timers. We know the Bar- 
 town schools. He and I had only women teachers 
 at 59. Some of them were young, some were old. 
 I would like to ask Mr. Munson, as an old P. S. 
 59 boy, if he feels that his ideals of womanhood 
 were injured or lowered by the women he knew 
 
 at 59?" 
 
 She stopped, and every eye in the room was 
 fixed on the committee member. That gentleman 
 looked somewhat surprised, but he rose with- 
 out hesitation and said, "I certainly had no inten- 
 tion of taking part in this discussion, but since 
 the direct question has been put to me, I will say 
 that all the speaker's statements are true, so far 
 as I am aware. 
 
 "I will also say that my recollections of the 
 teachers at Public School 59 do not bear out the 
 remarks of the distinguished gentleman who has 
 appeared in opposition to the bill. 
 
 "Some of those teachers were old, as Miss Pen- 
 nington has said. Some of them might not have 
 been handsome." 
 
BILLY GOES TO THE LEGISLATURE 1 65 
 
 He looked narrowly at Dreiser and the other 
 committee members, but the smile did not come 
 back. 
 
 ^'Sometimes our mothers aren't handsome," 
 said he deliberately. "We don't kick out our 
 mothers because they lose their looks; I don't 
 know why we should the teachers. They're doing 
 the same kind of work — looking after the klds.^ 
 A woman doesn't have to be a good looker to 
 bring up children right." 
 
 He sat down, and so did Billy. One minute of 
 her time was left, but she thought better to drop 
 it with Mr. Munson's remark. She didn't be- 
 lieve she could close with anything else so good. 
 
 Professor Andrews announced that this closed 
 their presentation of the subject and the commit- 
 tee chairman was about to adjourn the hearing, 
 when Dreiser rose and asked If he might have 
 just one word. 
 
 "I object," said Denny McPike fiercely, leap- 
 ing to his feet; "the gentleman has had his time. 
 He wasn't promised any time to answer rebuttal.'* 
 
 Dreiser looked amused. 
 
 "It was only a question of personal privilege," 
 he said mildly. 
 
 "Mr. Dreiser has the floor for a question of 
 personal privilege," said the chairman. 
 
 "I merely wished to say," said Dreiser, "that 
 while I tried as well as I could in my brief re- 
 marks to indicate the sort of teacher that was de- 
 
1 66 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 sirable In the schools, that no words of mine could 
 ever have depicted that type so well as the living 
 illustration of my ideal in the last speaker of the 
 day." 
 
 He made a courtly inclination to Billy. Imme- 
 diately the smile came back, except to Munson's 
 face. 
 
 "Miss Pennington pleads for a tenure of office 
 bill so that the teachers may be able to speak their 
 minds about the schools without fear of dis- 
 charge." 
 
 The smile grew broad, and even Munson 
 looked amused. 
 
 "Miss Pennington doesn't need any tenure of 
 office bill. I can assure you that she will never be 
 discharged from the schools of Bartown even 
 though anybody can see that she doesn't like her 
 superintendent a bit." 
 
 The laughter grew. 
 
 "The schools want teachers just like Miss Pen- 
 nington. As I said in my remarks, the only trou- 
 ble is that we can't get enough of them. It isn't 
 Miss Pennington the schools are afraid of — it's 
 McPike." 
 
 A roar of laughter went up and the hearing ad- 
 journed in a confusion of merriment. There was 
 not a committeeman there who did not believe 
 that Miss Pennington was engaged to McPIke. 
 In one minute's speech Dreiser had done what he 
 wished to do ; destroyed the effect which Billy had 
 
BILLY GOES TO THE LEGISLATURE 1 67 
 
 left, put her in the position of a pretty child to 
 be petted, compHmented, and not taken seri- 
 ously, and thrown the whole question back again 
 into that sex atmosphere with which he had sur- 
 rounded it. 
 
 The whole meeting, apparently, surged towards 
 Billy at adjournment. Dreiser walked straight 
 to her and held out his hand. 
 
 *'My dear Miss Pennington, permit me to con- 
 gratulate you on your speech," he said; "it was 
 one of the finest things of its kind I ever heard." 
 
 Billy made no answer and did not take his 
 hand. 
 
 He stood there, holding it stretched towards 
 her, in full view of the surrounding crowd, ap- 
 parently not in the least abashed by her cut di- 
 rect. People began to titter, and looking up she 
 saw that Dreiser was laughing at her. 
 
 "Ah, Mrs. Courtney," said he, turning to the 
 club woman with an indulgent smile; "we must 
 train our little orator here not to show temper. 
 She is too young yet to understand that personal 
 feelings must not enter into public affairs." 
 
 Mrs. Courtney saved the situation. 
 
 "I don't think," said she negligently, "that 
 Miss Pennington is too young to fully compre- 
 hend the state of affairs. Come, Billy, let's go 
 and get some lunch." 
 
 She gathered up her rich furs and turned to- 
 wards the door. 
 
l69 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 She signalled a cab at the door, for which Billy 
 was eternally grateful, for it got her away from 
 the crowd. The girl restrained herself until she 
 reached their sitting room at the hotel. Then she 
 burst into uncontrollable tears of helpless disap- 
 pointment and nervous reaction. She cried so 
 hard and so long that when the men finally came 
 up with the news that the bill was killed, she had 
 no more tears left, and received the news apatheti- 
 cally. 
 
 ■'They voted to report it with recommendation 
 that it do not pass, which of course means that 
 it's hopeless," said Professor Andrews. 
 
 "Has it taken them all this time?" said Billy 
 languidly. "I supposed they would settle it in 
 two minutes after we got out." 
 
 "Not much," replied the professor; "they 
 jawed over it another hour and more, and they'd 
 have been jawing yet if they hadn't got hungry." 
 
 "How did the vote stand?" 
 
 "Four to one." 
 
 "A good return," said Billy idly; "we build up 
 a great organization, get thousands of people in- 
 terested, spend money out of our poverty, and 
 work like slaves all winter, and get one vote." 
 
 "But you did get one," said Andrews; "you got 
 it yourself, Billy; you did it with your little 
 hatchet. The committee was unanimous against 
 the bill before the hearing this morning. You got 
 Munson." 
 
BILLY GOES TO THE LEGISLATURE 1 69 
 
 "Is that SO?" said Billy, a little astonishment 
 showing in her face. 
 
 *'Sure it is. It was Munson kept them arguing 
 an hour, and he is going to present a minority 
 report to the House." 
 
 "But that won't do any good." 
 
 "It won't carry the bill through, certainly. But 
 it's all in the way of agitation, education. Mun- 
 son's going to work up a great speech on it. He 
 came to me for material, and he wants to see 
 you and have a long talk whenever you're willing. 
 Don't you see that gets the whole question before 
 the legislature and threshes it out in public? 
 That's just what we wanted, and I never expected 
 any such luck. I expected it to be smothered in 
 committee." 
 
 "You did?" cried Billy, amazed. 
 
 "Yes, at least I knew there was every probabil- 
 ity of it." 
 
 "Then why didn't you tell me?" 
 
 "Because a beginning always has to be made," 
 replied the professor. "A bill like this, a totally 
 new departure, is always defeated the first time 
 it is presented. There was no use in taking all 
 hope out of you at the start. It was too valuable. 
 And not one stiver of work you've done will be 
 lost. It will all tell in the next campaign. We're 
 going to bring this bill right back here next win- 
 
 ter." 
 
 "What's the use?" said Billy, dully. "We may 
 
170 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 work and toll and organize and educate, and get 
 the trades unions and the women's clubs and then 
 that man will come down here alone and be 
 stronger than the whole of us put together." 
 
 "No, he wasn't, Billy; no, he wasn't," objected 
 the professor earnestly; "he was strong because 
 he represented the whole great unstirred, unedu- 
 cated population of the state. Those men on the 
 committee represented it too. They were not 
 merely Indifferent to a tenure of office bill, they 
 never even heard of such a thing till we got after 
 them a few weeks ago. And they knew that their 
 constituents were just the same. We made a big 
 showing there this morning in numbers, but those 
 men knew that we and a few hundreds, or at 
 most a few thousands, of persons were all there 
 were In the state that even knew what tenure of 
 office meant. The rest think it's some kind of a 
 cocktail. And you got one of those five men on 
 the committee, and you got him good. You got 
 him so good that you've taken the thing onto the 
 floor of the House. I tell you, Billy, It's a good 
 beginning." 
 
 Interest in life began to creep into Billy's face 
 once more. "But I can't understand," she said 
 in a more natural tone ; "the paper said not a word 
 against It, nobody said a word against it." 
 
 "They didn't need to. Nobody paid enough 
 attention to It to say anything against It. It's not 
 a question of the day. When we get to the point 
 
BILLY GOES TO THE LEGISLATURE 17I 
 
 where there's really danger of its going through 
 you'll see the pack turned loose. I hope that'll 
 be as early as next winter. Cheer up, Billy, the 
 worst is yet to come." 
 
 Billy studied him and then raised her hands 
 despairingly. 
 
 *'But it may take years," she said, "and it may 
 take years for each of the other bills; the mini- 
 mum salary bill, the teachers' council bill, to get 
 Dreiser out of the schools. Why, it's the work 
 of a lifetime." 
 
 **Billy," said Professor Andrews earnestly, 
 "that's the way the world moves. That's the way 
 the torch of freedom is passed on, from hand to 
 hand of those who love it; kept alive in the darker 
 ages, flaming a little higher in the more enlight- 
 ened ones. That's all we can do, Billy, for our 
 day and generation; just to pass on that torch." 
 
 Once more the tears rose to Billy's eyes, but 
 they were grateful tears this time. 
 
 "Oh, Professor Andrews!" she cried, swaying 
 toward him. "Oh, Professor Andrews! you've 
 put me right. Professor; you've put me right." 
 
 It was the touch of idealism that Billy always 
 had to have. She could not work with sordid 
 thoughts and sordid motives. Like a flash she 
 saw herself one of that long line, passing on the 
 light that never failed, from the days of the horde 
 upward. The figures in the line drop out un- 
 
172 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 known, but the light remains; the heritage of the 
 race. 
 
 Her face cleared up, the old Billy came back, 
 a lovely breath of exaltation touched her face. 
 
 All the rest, who had been so anxiously watch- 
 ing her, looked relieved. 
 
 But after the men had gone, with arrangements 
 for a rendezvous at the train, she turned to Mrs. 
 Courtney with clenched hands. 
 
 *'Oh, for the vote, the vote!" said she; "to 
 bring those grinning apes on the committee to 
 time." 
 
 "Yes," said Mrs. Courtney seriously, "you see 
 now what every woman does who has tried to get 
 bills through. I was brought into the suffrage 
 movement by that bill for the State Industrial 
 School for Wayward Girls. Those miserable 
 girls are sent to jail over and over again, and 
 every time they come out worse than they went in. 
 WeVe been trying six years to get that bill. And 
 last winter, just after they turned us down, they 
 passed a bill carrying a larger appropriation than 
 we asked for a State College for Veterinary Sur- 
 geons. The horses must be looked after, you 
 know." 
 
 "I'll take the Bartown Teachers* Association 
 into the suffrage camp," said Billy promptly. 
 Mrs. Courtney smiled at her. 
 
 "YouVe wonderfully energetic, all of a sud- 
 den." 
 
BILLY GOES TO THE LEGISLATURE 1 73 
 
 "Yes, isn't Professor Andrews a dear?" said 
 Billy gravely; "I understand why his teachers and 
 pupils look up to him so. He's the real leader of 
 this thing, not I." 
 
 Mrs. Courtney shook her head. 
 
 "No, Billy," she said, "you're the leader. You 
 started it. The professor only fell in line, like 
 the rest of us, after you started. You have the 
 qualities of a leader. You can inspire, enthuse, 
 move to action. Professor Andrews is not a 
 leader; he is the wise counsellor, as Burleigh was 
 to Elizabeth." 
 
 Billy stared. 
 
 "Well, I declare, Mrs. Courtney," she said, 
 "you are giving me great compliments." 
 
 "You are a remarkable young woman," replied 
 the other simply. "I suppose there have been 
 many remarkable young women in past times, 
 whose talents could find no field for action. The 
 adoration of the English for the hereditary prin- 
 ciple in monarchy gave Elizabeth her chance. 
 The superstition of the French soldiery gave Joan 
 of Arc hers. I believe civilization has about 
 reached the plane where any woman who has the 
 qualities of leadership will be able to use them. 
 It is my interest in you as a possible leader of 
 women, as much as my interest in the teachers' 
 bill, which brought me into this campaign of 
 yours." 
 
CHAPTER X 
 
 In Which Billy Meets a Real Man 
 
 THIS was all very nice, but nevertheless it 
 was a very sober young leader of women 
 who sat in her schoolroom the next Monday after- 
 noon after school. 
 
 She had talked with Munson half the way to 
 Bartown on the train, going oyer the whole sub- 
 ject of tenure of office, and incidentally giving 
 him an account of the whole state of affairs in 
 the Bartown schools. 
 
 When she finally got rid of him, McPike must 
 needs slip instantly into the vacated chair and 
 begin to murmur soft nothings in Irish into her 
 ear. McPike, who had never seen Ireland, nor 
 his parents before him, had talked the brogue so 
 much as a joke that it had become second nature 
 to him. The Dooley papers were his Bible. 
 
 "YeVe a darlin', yeVe a daisy, ye're a duck, 
 Billy," he said; *'Glory to God, how ye did go 
 after Munson wid the mother, home and heaven 
 stunt. I wisht I had ye down in me ninth ward 
 to help in the primaries, so I do. Sure I c'u'd use 
 ye in my business. And you after standin' up 
 
 174 
 
BILLY MEETS A REAL MAN 1 75 
 
 there like a rose in June, like a little princess ye 
 were, in yer brown velvet and golden hair, wid 
 
 the brown eyes of ye " 
 
 *'0h, Denny, shut up," said Billy violently; 
 "don^t let me hear any rot like that after all 
 Dreiser's slops about pretty girls and 'beautiful 
 young womanhood.' Shut up or get out, or I 
 will." 
 
 "Parlez vous, taisez vous, 
 Gosh, the deep disgrace, 
 If Fd 'a' knew that taisez vous 
 Was French for close yer face" — 
 
 crooned Denny, quoting from his best loved poet. 
 **Let me stay, Billy. FU talk politics to ye, not 
 love." 
 
 And so he did, all the rest of the way to Bar- 
 town, so interestingly that Billy could not help lis- 
 tening, though she was worn to frazzles. 
 
 She had talked and laughed on, under high 
 nervous strain, until she finally stepped out of 
 Mrs. Courtney's automobile at her own door. 
 Then she got to bed more dead than alive. The 
 thing, coming on top of the winter's work, would 
 have landed some women in nervous prostration. 
 But Billy was young and her digestion was per- 
 fect. The juice was in her joints, the resiliency in 
 her mind. And she had good care at home. She 
 was bathed in hot water, fed with bland broths, 
 tucked away under soft, warm covers with hot- 
 water bags at her feet, and there she slept for 
 
176 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 twelve hours, with the cold air of winter pouring 
 in at the wide-open windows. 
 
 She awoke as good as new, did it all over again 
 Sunday night, and got to school Monday morn- 
 ing fit as a fiddle. 
 
 But despite the buoyancy that comes from 
 rested nerves and the approval of friends ; despite 
 that glorious flash of vision which Andrews, with 
 the consummate art of the great teacher, had 
 given her, it was a very sober Billy who sat at her 
 desk, steadily correcting exercise books. 
 
 The fight had changed its aspect. It stretched 
 ahead long, indefinite, uncertain. It's always a 
 blue Monday when youth sees the long road for 
 the first time. She had failed in the two things 
 she had set out to do that winter; securing the aid 
 of the papers, and passing the bill. It was true, 
 that in accomplishing these two failures she had 
 stirred up a body of sentiment and sympathizers 
 that had not existed before, and was increasing all 
 the time. It must amount to something in time. 
 But the whole thing had grown nebulous, indefi- 
 nite. She had no longer a specific thing in view 
 which she believed she could accomplish. It was 
 harder getting her third wind than it had been 
 getting her second. 
 
 As Billy sat intently correcting exercise books 
 with one-half her mind and conning affairs of 
 state with the other, she heard an apologetic 
 cough behind her. She glanced around and be- 
 
BILLY MEETS A REAL MAN 1 77 
 
 held a rather amazing figure standing on her 
 threshold. After school visitors were not un- 
 common, but they were not often young men, and 
 such very well-set-up young men. 
 
 "Miss Pennington?" he said, and then held out 
 to her a sheaf of typewritten sheets. 
 
 "Our city editor," he said, "told me to drop 
 around and ask you about this. It looked to him 
 as If there might be a story In it. I'm from the 
 Forumy 
 
 Miss Pennington looked unconvinced. 
 
 "Have you changed city editors lately?" said 
 she dryly. 
 
 "No, why?" 
 
 "Oh, nothing. I thought there was a story in 
 that stuff once myself. But you won't use It." 
 
 "Who said so ?" queried the young man. 
 
 "I have begged and pleaded with every paper 
 in town," said she, "yours among the number, 
 and not one of them will touch It." 
 
 The youth looked a trifle disconcerted. 
 
 "He's changed his mind since you were there," 
 he urged. 
 
 "I don't see why he should," replied the lady, 
 with an ungratlfying lack of confidence. 
 
 "See here, why are you so hard upon me?" 
 asked the young man. 
 
 He asked it winnlngly, convincingly, somehow. 
 Billy deliberately looked him over. He was a 
 very good-looking young man. Blue-eyed bru- 
 
178 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 nette was his style of beauty. His thick, close- 
 cropped hair was very dark, though not quite 
 black. His skin was a richer brown than the 
 Sassenach usually attains. His head was well- 
 shaped, his figure straight, springy and athletic, 
 his features regular and clear cut, and out of that 
 smooth-shaven brown cameo face shone as nice 
 a pair of blue eyes, Billy thought, as she had ever 
 seen. Large they were, and dark, with long 
 black lashes, which curled at the ends. 
 
 "It's a pity you're in such a disreputable busi- 
 ness," she said, when she had inspected him. 
 
 "Oh, come now," said he; "why are you so 
 hard on us?" 
 
 "My experience with the newspapers has not 
 been very happy," she replied unsmilingly. "I 
 went on my knees to them to use that story there; 
 a big story it was, one that would have helped 
 thousands of suffering women and children. They 
 wouldn't touch it, and then, when we tried to help 
 ourselves, in the only way we knew how, they 
 turned around and had fun with us for weeks 
 on end." 
 
 "Well, see here," said the young man, after 
 a moment's hesitation. "I don't want to sound 
 conceited, but I've got quite a lot of influence with 
 our city editor. If this story pans out as good as 
 it looks to me from this letter of yours, I can 
 pledge you definitely that it will be published." 
 
 Billy's fingers were busy automatically drawing 
 
BILLY MEETS A REAL MAN 1 79 
 
 little figures on a sheet of blank papers ; pictures 
 of chalk boxes they were, as one could see by close 
 inspection. She scrutinized the young man again. 
 Then her face cleared, and a true, Billyesque smile 
 irradiated it. 
 
 ''You wouldn't come here and get me to talk so 
 as to go away and make fun of me, would you?" 
 said she appealingly. 
 
 "No, you bet I wouldn't,'' said the young man. 
 
 "Very well then, I'll tell you all I know. They 
 won't publish a word of it, but as long as you 
 aren't going to roast me I suppose I may as well 
 spend my time educating you as anybody." 
 
 "That's right," said the young man heartily. 
 
 Miss Pennington, ceasing her artistic labors, 
 and applying her right hand to the assistance of 
 her left in the support of her chin, gazed out over 
 this penthouse at the strange young man. ' 
 
 "Very well, Mr. Forum, go and write some- 
 thing on that board," said she. 
 
 The youth went, just as if he were still in 
 school. He picked up a piece of chalk and made 
 a picture of a chalk box. 
 
 "Now, rub it out." 
 
 He applied the eraser with all the vigor of an 
 unusually manly arm. 
 
 "By George!" said he. 
 
 "Isn't that nice?" said Miss Pennington. "Isn't 
 that a comfortable way to teach school? Stand 
 three feet away and you can't see the white marks 
 
l80 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 on the board, though applied with all the strength 
 of your wrist. We are practically deprived of 
 the use of the blackboard, one of the necessities 
 of class teaching throughout the history of 
 schools." 
 
 The man from the Forum sat down on top of 
 a desk and took out a little notebook. 
 
 "Tell me about it," said he. 
 
 "I can tell you," said Miss Pennington, *'but 
 it's a long story, and you can't understand the 
 chalk without knowing what went before. Do 
 you want It all?" 
 
 "All," said the Forum man. 
 
 "Well, then, look at that row of seats," said 
 Billy, with a sort of controlled violence, indicat- 
 ing the historic dark row. 
 
 Then she told him, more briefly, the story 
 which has been told in this book. 
 
 "The Bartown schools aren't being run by edu- 
 cators," she concluded. "They're run by busi- 
 ness men. A business man sees no sense in main- 
 taining an extra room in a building when all the 
 children can be seated in the other rooms. The 
 teacher knows that it is ruining the process of 
 education, but the business man takes no account 
 of that. There are twenty-five thousand more 
 children of school age in Bartown to-day than 
 there were three years ago, and one hundred and 
 twenty-five fewer schoolrooms. They began with 
 seventy-nine in a bunch, they've gradually in- 
 
BILLY MEETS A REAL MAN l8l 
 
 creased it to one hundred and twenty-five during 
 the winter, and this right while our fight against 
 them was going on. I don't know where It's going 
 to stop. It's not only the apartment houses that 
 don't want children. The schools don't want them 
 either." 
 
 Miss Pennington stopped a moment for breath, 
 and then went on. 
 
 "It's the department store system of educa- 
 tion," she said. "Wherever a child can be 
 crowded In, crowd him In. Wherever a room can 
 be closed, shut It up. Wherever five dollars can 
 be chopped off a teacher's wages, chop it off. And 
 the man at the top hired to do all this cutting and 
 grinding, paid higher and higher wages, depart- 
 ment-store style. While the grade teachers are 
 getting twenty-five dollars a year less than they 
 were three years ago, in face of the Increased cost 
 of living, the superintendent's salary has risen 
 from seven thousand to nine thousand dollars a 
 year, two thousand more than Dr. Haswell ever 
 got." 
 
 "You can let us see these documentary proofs?" 
 
 "I" — somewhat wearily — "told the managing 
 editor of the Forum long ago that I would do 
 that whenever he was ready to publish." 
 
 "And this Perkins girl, would she testify in 
 court if it came to that?" 
 
 "Oh, yes," said Billy, "and so would Manders, 
 Dr. Haswell's old secretary. You could get a lot 
 
1 82 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 more from him. I've never had time to go and 
 see him. He's got no job to lose now." 
 
 The young man studied her concernedly. 
 
 "Fm afraid you'll lose yours," he said. 
 
 "That doesn't matter," said Billy simply; "I've 
 talked with Ethel." 
 
 The man looked slightly bewildered. 
 
 "Talked with Ethel?" 
 
 "Yes ; Ethel's my sister, you know. The trouble 
 with poor people in losing a job is not so much 
 the fear that they won't get another, sometime, 
 as for some one to carry them while they're get- 
 ting it. But I've talked with Ethel and she told 
 me to go ahead, and she'd carry me while I was 
 hunting another place." 
 
 The young man surveyed his hostess very 
 studiously indeed. 
 
 "It isn't a pleasant thing to be fired, even if you 
 can get another position,'* said he. 
 
 Billy laughed. 
 
 "Oh, well, you can't lose my job anyway," said 
 she; "I've tried, but it sticks closer than fly paper. 
 I've done everything I could think of to get fired, 
 but they won't fire me. Guess they'll have to, 
 though, after next Saturday night." 
 
 "Why after Saturday?" 
 
 "Because," said Miss Pennington, "I've de- 
 cided to go on the stump." 
 
 She looked at him triumphantly. 
 
 "It doesn't make any difference whether you 
 
BILLY MEETS A REAL MAN 1 83 
 
 publish this story or not," she said; "the people 
 are going to know It, because I'm going to tell 
 them. The executive committee of this new Citi- 
 zens Party that's going to run a city ticket this 
 spring has promised me that their meetings shall 
 be open to me. My opening speech Is next Satur- 
 day night at West Turner Hall." 
 
 The Forum man knew West Turner Hall. It 
 was not a hall where he would have Imagined any 
 woman speaking In public. He looked at her 
 gravely. 
 
 "What has caused you to decide so firmly?" he 
 said. 
 
 "That chalk," said Miss Pennington, flinging 
 her hand with a gesture of repulsion toward the 
 helpless crayons with all their grease upon them. 
 
 "They cut down my salary and Increased my 
 work. They've robbed the children right and 
 left. They are destroying the efiiclency of the 
 schools. But still I could forget It all when I 
 got into the schoolroom and got to teaching, be- 
 cause I wasn't responsible for It. My business 
 was simply to teach as well as I could. But now 
 they've come Into my schoolroom and taken away 
 my tools so I can't even teach." 
 
 The girl's face became convulsed with anger. 
 Then and ever after the chalk enraged her more 
 than any other feature of the entire business ; the 
 explosive rage of the workman required to work 
 with broken tools. 
 
18^4 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 "These people had my mouth closed and 
 gagged with the rest," said she, "because they 
 controlled my job. But the gag is out. No one 
 else would take up the matter. I had to.** 
 
 A pathetic note in her voice struck the man. 
 He looked at her concernedly, and then used the 
 very words she had used to Delia Perkins once 
 upon a time. 
 
 "You haven't many illusions left, have you?" 
 said he. 
 
 "Not many," said she, "and by that same token 
 I don't understand the Forum's sudden change of 
 heart. That strikes me as an illusion." 
 
 She watched him narrowly, but he seemed to 
 be thinking deeply. 
 
 "Why is the Forum going to take up this fight 
 after all?" she insisted, still manifestly unbeliev- 
 ing. 
 
 "Because I'm a fool, I suppose," replied the 
 man absentmindedly. 
 
 Miss Pennington stared, as she was certainly 
 justified in doing. The man came to himself with 
 a start, and a slightly uncomfortable look invaded 
 his face. Miss Pennington continued to stare un- 
 til a sudden light broke over her countenance. 
 
 "You don't mean to say you are Conover, do 
 you?" she exclaimed in great astonishment. 
 
 "That's right," said the man, in a tone as if he 
 had been caught stealing sheep. "I said I was 
 a fool, but I didn't realize I was demonstrating. 
 
BILLY MEETS A REAL MAN 1 85 
 
 I never gave myself dead away before, but your 
 story made me think so hard. You showed me 
 up for a little bigger thief even than I supposed 
 I was, and I was thinking what I would have to do 
 about it." 
 
 "I showed you up for a thief," cried Billy Pen 
 in wild amaze. "Will you tell me what you mean ?" 
 
 Conover rose and began to walk about the 
 room with his hands in his pockets, with an ab- 
 sent look upon his face, talking in a rambling 
 way, with many pauses between sentences while 
 his mind evidently trailed off into lines of thought 
 beyond his words. 
 
 "YouVe told me a queer story," he said; "I 
 can tell you a queerer one. YouVe found a graft 
 on chalk and drawing books. I can tell you a 
 bigger one. YouVe been studying the school sys- 
 tem for years from the inside. I never stepped 
 inside a public school in Bartown till today, and 
 yet I can tell things about the system you don't 
 know." 
 
 He walked about. Miss Pennington had re- 
 lapsed into her favorite attitude ; her little round 
 chin in her two white hands. 
 
 "I shall have to begin with myself," he said. 
 
 "I take it that you know that when I left col- 
 lege I went on my grandfather's paper as a cub 
 reporter. Various other publications of the coun- 
 try, of the kind that feature the brand of shoe- 
 strings and collar studs that millionaires wear. 
 
1 86 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 wouldn't let anybody remain in ignorance of the 
 fact. I remember one Sunday paper especially, 
 that wrote me up as the 'Model Millionaire, the 
 Pattern for All Poor Boys.' It told of the ex- 
 hausting hours of toil I put in, when I might have 
 been enjoying myself. How I worked just like a 
 common reporter, for fifteen dollars a week. 
 
 "As a matter of fact the fifteen didn't pay for 
 my cigars. I was paying six hundred dollars a 
 week for three rooms at the Richmond at the 
 time." 
 
 "Is It true you are a Socialist?" asked Billy 
 curiously. 
 
 "Oh, no, certainly not, not at all," said Con- 
 over. "I merely seem to get the same satisfac- 
 tion out of running a newspaper that some other 
 fellows do out of running a yacht. I suppose I'm 
 too near the shirt sleeves to be real quality. My 
 grandfather was a poor boy who became a great 
 editor. He began at the printer's case, and for 
 forty years he moulded public opinion In this 
 country. You know my parents died when I was 
 young, and my grandfather brought me up. He 
 lived and moved and had his being in that paper. 
 I grew up thinking my grandfather was the great- 
 est man on earth, and the Bartown Daily Forum 
 the greatest Institution. 
 
 "I was editor of the leading paper at my col- 
 lege, and when I came out I went on the Forum 
 staff because I wanted to learn the business. I 
 
BILLY MEETS A REAL MAN 1 87 
 
 liked the Forum not merely because It made 
 money for me, but for itself. The inside of the 
 office has had a fascination for me ever since I 
 used to go down there as a little kid with my 
 grandfather, and watch the big presses, and steal 
 around softly in the • city room, watching all the 
 men at work at their typewriters, with the green 
 shades over their eyes. 
 
 *'I wanted to learn the business because I liked 
 it; and I did learn It until the papers which es- 
 tablish confidential relations with the butlers and 
 housemaids of the predatory rich got onto me. 
 After that people were always recognizing me 
 when I went around about my work, and making 
 silly asses of themselves. I wanted to make a 
 star reporter," said he regretfully, "but I never 
 shall. It was too much like a personal publicity 
 department. I don't like to work the limelight 
 and stand In It too. 
 
 ''Well, when the Boxer racket came along, I 
 went out to China as war correspondent for the 
 Forum. And since I came home I've been staying 
 quietly In the telegraph room, learning to edit 
 telegraph, and occasionally trying my hand at an 
 editorial on some subject that I think I know 
 something about. I mean to work into it until I 
 actually run the Forum. At present I own it — 
 my grandfather died three years ago, you know — 
 but I don't run It." He smiled. 
 
 "That was made particularly clear to me yes- 
 
1 88 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 terday," said he. "I keep a private office In the 
 Forum building, and I have left strict orders that 
 every letter, every communication, signed or un- 
 signed, addressed to the Forum by its readers, 
 should be left on that desk; I mean those that 
 don't get published, of course. I like to look them 
 over and get a notion what people are thinking 
 of. Occasionally I take one and go out myself 
 and get a story on It. I like to do that once In 
 a while. I like to see how people treat me when 
 they don't know I'm my grandfather's grandson. 
 It keeps down my conceit. 
 
 "It was this way I came across your letter about 
 the chalk. Of course It came in long ago, but 
 some way it got pigeon-holed with some other 
 typewritten matter, and I ran onto it by accident. 
 It looked to me as though there were a good 
 newspaper story In it, and I took it to our city 
 editor and put It up to him. I innocently sup- 
 posed that my childish eye had detected a sensa- 
 tion which his eagle orb had missed. He smiled 
 in a peculiar way, and referred me to the Old 
 Man. Some way his smile Irritated me, and so 
 did the Old Man's, when I spoke to him about it." 
 
 He ruminated. 
 
 "The Old Man ran the paper in my grand- 
 father's time," he confided, "and I can't get along 
 without him, because he knows how to run the 
 paper and I don't." 
 
 "That must be the Marquis," said Billy. 
 
BILLY MEETS A REAL MAN 1 89 
 
 "What? Oh, well, that's a real ladylike name 
 for him. I'll tell him that. Well, he invited me 
 to sit down and we had a long confab, in the 
 course of which he told me why the Forum 
 couldn't print your little letter." 
 
 He grinned cheerfully. 
 
 "Did you know," said he, "that when this town 
 was a little townlet, one square mile of land was 
 set aside in trust for the school children of Bar- 
 town, the School Board to be the trustees? 
 
 "The town was down beside the Bar then, the 
 Bar that gave the name to the town; the sand- 
 bar that the first settlers used to ford the river 
 on. But it grew this way, and with the passage 
 of time that has become one of the most valuable 
 square miles on the surface of the globe, for to- 
 day it lies in the heart of the business section of 
 Bartown. 
 
 "Most of that square mile was sold years ago, 
 before its prospective value was realized. The 
 old-timers thought they were doing well for the 
 children when they sold that wood and farm land 
 at residence lot prices. But there are still some 
 pieces left which are among the most valuable 
 city lots on earth. 
 
 "All these parcels are now leased on long-term 
 leases. That land pays no taxes, the law contem- 
 plating that the rent shall be that much higher 
 for the benefit of the schools. One of those 
 pieces lies at the southeast corner of Walnut and 
 
190 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 M Streets. It Is 79 x 120 feet in dimensions, and 
 pays $12,000 a year rental, and no taxes. Di- 
 rectly opposite, on the northeast corner, there is 
 a piece of ground 50 x 92^ feet, but little more 
 than half as large, which rents for $26,900 a 
 year, and pays $3,000 a year taxes, making an 
 annual cost of $30,000 for the ground rent 
 alone." 
 
 He stopped, and intently surveyed his com- 
 panion. Many and varied emotions were chas- 
 ing each other over that lady's speaking face. She 
 was a schoolma'am; she was doing arithmetic 
 sums in her head. 
 
 "The southeast corner of Walnut and M 
 
 streets " said she slowly, "why — that's the 
 
 Forum office." 
 
 "Yes," said Conover, grinning, "isn't that nice? 
 As you said about the chalk? I figured it out, 
 and as near as I can make It my paper has been 
 stealing about $18,000 a year from the children 
 of Bartown for the last twelve years." 
 
 "But the Forum, the Forum F' said Miss Pen- 
 nington dazedly; "the Forum was always so much 
 interested In the schools. It discussed the most 
 abstruse educational and pedadoglcal problems. 
 It established prizes, gave medals for patriotic 
 essays " she trailed off into silence. 
 
 "Ye-es," drawled Conover, "those medals cost 
 $10 apiece. The Forum could afford to give 
 quite a lot of them. Always rather concerned, in 
 
BILLY MEETS A REAL MAN I9I 
 
 the heavy editorial style, about the teachers' du- 
 ties, too, wasn't It? Inclined to think the teach- 
 ers should approach their noble task In a mission- 
 ary spirit. What?" 
 
 ^Tes," said Billy, '*It was." 
 
 "YouVe cost me just $54,000 since I came into 
 this room," said he, coming to a halt and scowling 
 thoughtfully down upon her. 
 
 "I wasn't sure what I was going to do till I 
 came and heard what you had to say. Since I've* 
 heard It I've decided I can't steal from children 
 any longer. I think I could from a man all right, 
 and even from a woman. If she were real Impu- 
 dent and sassy" — his eye twinkled — ''but this is 
 too much like taking candy away from a baby. 
 My check for $54,000 goes to the Board of Edu- 
 cation tonight." 
 
 "Fifty-four thousand," repeated Miss Pen- 
 nington, still dazedly. ''It's a good deal of 
 money." 
 
 "The only question is if it's enough," said Con- 
 over. "Of course this thing has been going on 
 for years. But it's a natural Instinct of the hu- 
 man heart to wish to salve its conscience as easily 
 as possible. And I don't really know whether a 
 man is called upon to pay his grandfather's debts 
 or not, and my respected ancestor's estate went to 
 a lot of heirs. I know I couldn't make 'em all 
 cough up, and I don't know why I should do it 
 all. Anyway, I've decided to pay up for the three 
 
192 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 years IVe owned the paper, and then — Fm free 
 to go into the fight." 
 
 He said the words with such concentrated en- 
 ergy that Billy looked up startled. 
 
 *'Do you think that's all?" said he, answering 
 her look. 
 
 "Do you think the Forum^s the only big thief? 
 There's not a daily paper in Bartown that's not 
 in on the graft. Four of them have offices on 
 ^school lands, and every one is leasing at as much 
 under market price as the Forum. As for the 
 rest, some man connected with each one holds a 
 similar lease. Now, do you see a light, Miss Wil- 
 helmina Derwent Pennington? Now, do you un- 
 derstand why none of them would print your let- 
 ter, Miss Innocent Schoolma'am? Why no word 
 of criticism of the schools ever appears in the 
 papers ? Why your city superintendent and your 
 district superintendent and your committee on sup- 
 plies and all the rest of the chalk and slate pencil 
 thieves are let alone in their graft? Why the 
 Columbian Book Company is allowed to take a 
 hand in the appointment of the Bartown Board 
 of Education, and can come in here and dictate 
 the selection of a city superintendent? Oh, the 
 Old Man put me wise all right." 
 
 "And he sat there and smiled and smiled," 
 murmured Billy, lost in recollection. 
 
 "The people can't know anything about these 
 things unless the papers tell them," observed Mr. 
 
BILLY MEETS A REAL MAN 1 93 
 
 Conover, still prowling about. "And the news- 
 papers would tell them unless they were let in 
 somewhere. I suppose one of them got in years 
 ago, and the rest saw how good it was, and edged 
 in until they were all on school land. 
 
 "Of course there are more than a hundred 
 other papers published in the city, but none of 
 them appeals to the general public. They're all 
 little class papers, or trade papers, or papers 
 printed in a foreign language. Such sheets never 
 take up a big thing like this. It takes the power 
 and money of a big daily to dare touch it. And 
 probably not one of them ever heard of the graft. 
 I never heard of it till yesterday. You never 
 heard of it, and you think you know quite a lot 
 about schools." 
 
 He smiled down at her. 
 
 "Within the last nine years," said he, "every 
 one of these enterprising dailies has gone before 
 the School Board and got the revaluation clause 
 struck out of its lease. Think of that. A ninety- 
 nine year lease in a city of the enormous growth 
 of Bartown, and no revaluation clause. Why, 
 one man that got his revaluation clause struck 
 out sold his lease the very next day for $225,000. 
 Think of that; the striking out of one paragraph 
 worth $225,000; $225,000 that belonged to the 
 school children of Bartown; and the teachers get- 
 ting $25 a year less for the sake of economy. 
 
194 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 Why, that $25 would buy you a new dress, 
 wouldn't it?'* 
 
 *Tes," said Billy, "it would." 
 
 He lit a cigarette, gesticulated with it, and 
 threw it away, quite unconscious of what he was 
 about. 
 
 ^'Stealing the clothes off the teachers' backs," 
 said he, *'and shoving all this extra work on 
 them. All the teacher's got in the world are her 
 clothes and her working power, and they'll rob 
 her of both, and then hand out $225,000 un- 
 earned increment to this grafter, just because he's 
 got the power to expose their own graft. I've 
 totalled it up roughly, and I make out that in the 
 past nine years alone the schools have lost more 
 than $15,000,000 in the cancellation of old leases, 
 and the giving of new straight leases without re- 
 valuation clauses, to various solid men, leading 
 citizens, pillars of society in Bartown." 
 
 His offhand laughing manner had changed to 
 one of electric wrath. He struck his clenched 
 fist on her desk. 
 
 "Do you suppose I'm going to turn my fifty- 
 four thousand over to the rest of these smug 
 thieves?" said he. "No; by heaven, if I pay, 
 they shall pay too." 
 
 ' A blood-swollen vein stood out straight across 
 his forehead. They looked silently into each 
 other's eyes, and silently shook hands. That clasp 
 
BILLY MEETS A REAL MAN 1 95 
 
 was a pledge of two comrades, going to war to- 
 gether. 
 
 It was the man who let the moment's high ten- 
 sion down. 
 
 "A representative of the great moral and re- 
 ligious daily of Bartown will have the honor of 
 reporting your speech next Saturday night, Miss 
 Wilhelmina Derwent Pennington,'* said he. 
 
 She was still thoughtful. 
 
 "How is it," said she slowly, "that you are so 
 different from your grandfather?" 
 
 "Change in the times I guess," said he; "so- 
 cial conscience is different nowadays. And then 
 I guess it was never brought home to the old gen- 
 tleman. He never saw the human and personal 
 aspect of it, as you made me see it. And then, 
 too, we must remember that the newspaper graft 
 in those days didn't really create any oppression 
 in the schools. It merely deprived the schools of 
 added advantages which they ought to have had. 
 But they got along fairly well with Haswell look- 
 ing out for them." 
 
 "And Dr. Haswell never knew about this?" 
 
 "The Old Man thinks he got onto it a few 
 years before he died, and that was when they 
 tried to get him out. The graft in the School 
 Board itself was in the buildings, their erection 
 and maintenance. Bartown has put millions into 
 school buildings in the last twenty-five years, and 
 part of each million stuck to hands on the School 
 
196 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 Board. That's the reason that positions on the 
 School Board were regular political awards by 
 the mayor. All the janitor jobs and scrubwomen 
 appointments are political, too. And It used to 
 be, years ago, that every teacher's appointment 
 was a political reward given to some male rela- 
 tive of hers. But Haswell stopped that." 
 
 *'Dr. Haswell was a perfectly honest man," he 
 continued, after a moment's thought. "He lived 
 inside his little old seven thousand all his life. 
 He raised several children and gave them each a 
 splendid education, but he didn't leave them any- 
 thing. The Old Man thinks that he wanted to 
 expose this graft when he got onto It, but they 
 threatened him, and he was an old man, and they 
 let him alone in his department, and so he 
 dropped it. But the Old Man thinks It kind of 
 took the heart out of him the last years of his 
 life." 
 
 "That's true," exclaimed Billy; "we all noticed 
 it. He wasn't nearly as cheerful as he had been." 
 
 She rose and began to prowl In her turn. 
 
 "How much you have told me, about things 
 that I have been connected with all my life," said 
 she ; "how strange it is that we should have been 
 brought together in this way." 
 
 "Nothing strange about it," said Conover, 
 smiling genially; "when a person goes out scout- 
 ing for trouble as you did they're apt to find it. 
 This thing is a good deal bigger than it was 
 
BILLY MEETS A REAL MAN 1 97 
 
 twenty-four hours ago, Miss Pennington. It looks 
 to me as if we would shake the city of Bartown 
 before we get through with it. It would be funny 
 if you and I did that, wouldn't it?" 
 
 He was smiling down at her with a wonder- 
 fully pleasant look in his blue eyes; and as for 
 Billy, as she looked at this big, elegant, splendid 
 new convert of hers, she felt like giving him what 
 she had given her first disciple, Delia Perkins, 
 after that honest young woman had gone on a 
 thieving expedition for her. 
 
CHAPTER XI 
 In Which Billy Goes on the Stump 
 
 THE people of Bartown never forgot the story 
 that came out on the first page of the Forum 
 the next Sunday morning; a story illustrated with 
 flashlight photographs of the blackboards in the 
 Bartown schools, and the crowded classes in ses- 
 sion, with children sitting on the floor and on 
 boards placed across the aisles from seat to seat 
 in some rooms, and with sinful caricatures of the 
 "smug thieves." 
 
 They never, to their dying day, forgot their 
 astonishment when the Forum, the great, the 
 wise, the stately, the solemnly asinine, the adviser 
 of thrones, principalities and powers, the apotheo- 
 sis of those who take themselves seriously, the 
 defender and apologist of things as they are, the 
 exponent of blind patriotism, the mouthpiece of 
 blatant jingoism, the sheet which for forty years 
 had devoted itself to proving that whatever is is 
 right, came out with an expose of the school lands 
 scandal which if not true was the most awful libel 
 ever printed. 
 
 They never forgot that campaign, either, or 
 198 
 
BILLY GOES ON THE STUMP 1 99 
 
 Billy Pen's stump speaking in it; and those who 
 wondered in after years at her political power in 
 her home town were those who never knew of 
 the heart-breaking work of that first campaign. 
 Teaching school by day in an overcrowded room, 
 with the chalk which was an aggravation each 
 separate minute, under irritating supervision and 
 with the prospect of discharge ever before her, 
 and by night speaking at points miles away, in 
 little suburban halls, in trades union meetings, in 
 secret societies and mutual aid associations, guild 
 meetings, church parlors and women's clubs — the 
 girl with the golden hair carried her story to the 
 people. 
 
 It required some years of experience before 
 Billy Pen was able to tell any other story in pub- 
 lic in a way to move an audience. But that school 
 story she could then and ever after tell in a way 
 calculated to make every human being who heard 
 it fighting mad, exactly as it had made Conover. 
 
 Conover had asked her to postpone her first 
 appearance until the next Monday night, instead 
 of Saturday. Then he had gone to the Citizens' 
 committee and arranged for that appearance to 
 be made at a downtown theatre which happened 
 to have a dark week, instead of at the remote 
 West Turner Hall. He stated in his first article 
 that this would be a continued story, as it was too 
 long to appear in any one issue, if any other news 
 were to be printed In the same number. He dwelt 
 
( 
 
 200 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 chiefly upon the school land end of it. For the 
 practical results to the schools, the human results 
 to the children and teachers, he advised them to 
 attend the Hart theatre the next night, where the 
 woman responsible for the whole revelation would 
 tell the story. 
 
 He brought the whole force of the article, and 
 the Sunday Forum, to bear as an advertisement 
 for Billy's speech the next night. As a conse- 
 quence, the theatre was packed with an audience 
 which came from every section of the city, and 
 clamorous throngs stood outside and demanded 
 admission until dispersed by the police. 
 
 Billy had a fearful moment of panic as she got 
 her first glimpse of that crowd from the wings. 
 She had never spoken to anything like this be- 
 fore. She was trembling in every muscle as she 
 walked upon the platform with the other speak- 
 ers. But as she sat facing the crowd — as every 
 speaker should do before his speech — she grew 
 accustomed to the great, hydra-headed thing out 
 there. And as she listened to the two speakers 
 who preceded her, also, her fears were soothed, 
 for she knew in her soul that she could do bet- 
 ter than they did. 
 
 When she was called forward by the chairman 
 she was astonished to be greeted by prolonged 
 applause. No faces were distinguishable to her 
 eye, she had felt that it was a multitude of 
 strangers. But she had forgotten the teachers. 
 
BILLY GOES ON THE STUMP 20I 
 
 They were there, hundreds of them, from all over 
 the city, and they had brought with them their 
 sisters, their cousins and their aunts, every one 
 under injunction to clap madly when Billy Pen- 
 nington came out. 
 
 Her own voice sounded strange to her in the 
 new place, so different from any she had ever 
 spoken in before. There was a minute or two 
 of testing to adjust it, when her touch was not 
 quite sure. But Billy knew her subject and felt 
 it to be of supreme importance; the two great 
 requisites for public speaking. Soon she began 
 to feel the response; that wonderful, mysterious, 
 psychic response which comes back from the audi- 
 ence, and in so much greater measure from a 
 large audience. Soon she was talking spon- 
 taneously, telling things about the school situa- 
 tion she had not had in mind at all before she be- 
 gan. Incident, anecdote and illustration fell from 
 her lips — and then she had them. The great 
 audience hung upon her words. 
 
 The Citizens* committee got an eye-opener that 
 night. They had granted her the use of their 
 platform as a favor, and without expectation of 
 any return from their kindness. It was McPike 
 who had put her onto this scheme, but Denny 
 himself could not secure the permission, as he 
 was a Democrat. When she consented to speak 
 in case they would permit her, however, he scur- 
 ried about and found friends of his in the Citi- 
 
202 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 zens' camp, who were willing to work the thing 
 for him. The committee only allowed It because 
 it was abuse of the present administration, and 
 all was grist that came to their mill. No one 
 among them seemed to appreciate the force of the 
 material. Their minds were fixed immovably 
 upon the local Issues which had produced the Citi- 
 zens ticket movement. When they saw Billy they 
 became a little more complaisant, as she would 
 undoubtedly be decorative on any stage. Never- 
 theless they had no idea of sending her anywhere 
 except to small, remote meetings, where the im- 
 portant speakers did not care to go. 
 
 When Conover proposed the Hart theatre 
 meeting they were privately very dubious as to 
 whether the girl were a fit speaker for such a 
 place. But if the owner of the Forum wanted to 
 play angel to one of the Citizens Party speakers 
 they certainly could not refuse him. After the 
 custom they put the unimportant speakers first. 
 
 When Billy had finished that night, however, 
 and the chairman was about to Introduce the big 
 gun of the evening, he was disturbed by about one 
 thousand teachers, with their sisters and their 
 cousins and their aunts, who arose and forthwith 
 departed. The ladies did not intend it as a slight. 
 They had to teach school next day, and they de- 
 sired to retire at as reasonable an hour as possi- 
 ble. 
 
 This became a regular part of the proceedings 
 
BILLY GOES ON THE STUMP 203 
 
 of that campaign, and others soon began to follow 
 It as well as the teachers. It was made so plain 
 to the committee that a large part of every audi- 
 ence came to hear Miss Pennington and nobody 
 else, that they could not possibly misunderstand. 
 They thereupon wished to put Billy last on every 
 programme. 
 
 This she strenuously refused, for the very per- 
 tinent reason that she wanted to speak early and 
 get home to bed, so that she could get up and 
 teach school next morning. 
 
 The committee also manifested an entire will- 
 ingness to use her as a feature to attract the pub- 
 lic to their meetings and secure Its attention for 
 their own speakers and their own Issues, leaving 
 her about ten minutes at the close of a long even- 
 ing to speak on the school situation. 
 
 Billy had no words with them over this mat- 
 ter, but she arranged her personal campaign to 
 suit herself. 
 
 She had formed the opinion that there Is a 
 method of campaigning better than the continuous 
 holding of party meetings. These meetings, she 
 was convinced, attracted few besides those already 
 interested. They educate and enthuse the sympa- 
 thizers, help get out a full party vote, but do not 
 make many converts. The street meeting catches 
 a crowd that nothing else will, but It has about 
 as much dignity and standing as the soap box or 
 
204 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 cart tail which serves as its rostrum, and it is 
 unavailable in cold weather. 
 
 To her mind a singularly useful line of work 
 was to secure admission to all sorts of organiza- 
 tions, it did not make much difference what. 
 There is almost no organization which does not 
 devote some time to social meetings. At these the 
 "programme," of music, recitations, playlets, 
 speeches, stunts generally, nearly always bear a 
 part; and to this a free speaker who comes well 
 recommended by members of the order, can usu- 
 ally secure admission. A straight political 
 speaker, orating for a specific ticket, cannot secure 
 this opportunity. But Billy believed that the 
 school issue, affecting all sorts and descriptions of 
 citizens, and invested with that non-partisan at- 
 mosphere which traditionally surrounds school 
 matters in America, might be introduced before 
 these bodies in this campaign. 
 
 Whenever she could make a speech before the 
 Women's Relief Corps, or the Ladies of the Mac- 
 cabees, or the Plumbers and Gasfitters Union, or 
 the Ladies' Travel Club, or the Bartown Com- 
 mercial Travellers' Association, or the Seventh 
 Ward Taxpayers' League, or the Men's Club of 
 the Judson Baptist Church, or the Ladies' Aid 
 Society of the Fourth Presbyterian, or the Young 
 People's Literary Society of the North Side 
 Methodist, she knew that the practical effect upon 
 her listeners was that this organization, of which 
 
BILLY GOES ON THE STUMP 205 
 
 they were members, had endorsed her cause. The 
 cause acquired a double backing; that of its own 
 merits, and that of the association of which they 
 were members. She spoke to people made 
 friendly because she was introduced by their own 
 friends, from their own platform; a very differ- 
 ent thing from appealing to Republicans and 
 Democrats to desert their own ticket and vote for 
 an unknown third party. She got totally fresh 
 audiences at these meetings; people who never 
 went to political meetings. She brought her sub- 
 ject into the familiar atmosphere of the church, 
 the club, the union. 
 
 Nothing in American life, compared to that of 
 other nations, is more astonishing than the net- 
 work of organization that interlaces it in ramifi- 
 cations that almost defy complete acquaintance. 
 Astute foreigners long ago noticed it, and men- 
 tioned it in their accounts of American explora- 
 tions in the early days of the Republic. 
 
 It sprang up immediately after the Revolution, 
 and has never ceased to grow since, x^n American 
 who has lived in such a place as Sicily, for in- 
 stance, In such a way as to become familiar with 
 the life of the people, is almost appalled at the 
 complete absence of this department of life, and 
 recognizes for the first time how large a space it 
 occupies in American existence. In Sicily, and 
 countries of which it is a type, association goes 
 by the tie of blood, stretching to the sbcteenth 
 
206 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 cousin. With us It runs along the line of con- 
 geniality and common interests, causing us to or- 
 ganize for mutual benefit and pleasure. Ameri- 
 cans are the farthest removed from the tribal 
 stage of any people on earth. 
 
 Billy had a personal committee in this cam- 
 paign, composed of Mrs. Courtney, Delia Per- 
 kins, Sara McPike, and those young teachers who, 
 still in the age of hero worship, had attached them- 
 selves to the service of the adored Miss Penning- 
 ton. Together they listed all manner of organiza- 
 tions, with the place, date and hour of the regu- 
 lar meetings of each, and the name and address 
 of some prominent official in each. Then one of 
 the committee went to see this person and arrange 
 a chance for Miss Pennington to speak. 
 
 Delia Perkins made the lists, checked them off, 
 and kept Billy's appointments straight. She was 
 admirable for that sort of work, but she could 
 not do the other work of the committee. She be- 
 longed to no organization, and her personality 
 was not of the kind to impress a stranger to whom 
 she went to ask a favor. Detective and second- 
 story man for the movement seemed to be her 
 function. 
 
 Sara McPike was the natural and unofficial 
 chairman of the committee, despite Mrs. Court- 
 ney's money and impressive presence. Mrs. 
 Courtney's prestige was among the women's clubs, 
 the Daughters of the Revolution, and similar bod- 
 
BILLY GOES ON THE STUMP 207 
 
 ies. She had little church influence, for although 
 she was a casual sort of Episcopalian, on the 
 ground that it Is a church which interferes with 
 neither your politics nor your religion, she put in 
 all her social work outside the church. 
 
 But Sara had all manner of unexpected and 
 mysterious social relations. Sara was an officer 
 In the Catholic Women's Benevolent Association. 
 Sara had made mud pies with the secretary of the 
 Young Men's Institute, a Catholic society corre- 
 sponding to the Young Men's Christian Associa- 
 tion. Sara's cousin was president of the Firemen's 
 Benevolent Association. Sara had friends in the 
 Daughters of Rebekah, the Knights of Pythias, 
 the Elks, the Woodmen of the World, and even 
 In the Eastern Star, absurd as this may seem to 
 one who knows the love between the Catholics 
 and the Masons. She was not only a "j'iner" but 
 all her friends seemed to be "j'iners." Miss Mc- 
 Pike, In short, like her gifted brother Dennis, had 
 the social gift. She had also the inestimable ad- 
 vantage of that brother's warm cooperation. 
 
 It was watching the operations of Denny and 
 Sara that first brought home to Billy what very 
 excellent team work a man and woman can do 
 together. She mentioned this to Sara as a discov- 
 ery. 
 
 **I think I've been defrauded in not having a 
 brother near my own age," she said; ''how much 
 we could have done together!" 
 
208 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 "There's a Jewish woman lawyer downtown," 
 said Sara, "she and her brother play that game 
 and have for years. Bullowa their name is. She 
 gets up all the cases and he does the work in 
 court. A great team they are." 
 
 Sara had never stepped inside a Protestant 
 church, except to see some friend married, but 
 she sent Mrs. Courtney hither and yon to inter- 
 view Protestant ministers and get Billy In; and 
 Mrs. Courtney was exactly the sort of woman for 
 this duty. 
 
 The Episcopal and Catholic churches never 
 permit the use of their church auditoriums for 
 any but a church function. This has an effect, 
 not often noticed but real, in separating these de- 
 nominations from the great popular reform and 
 progressive movements In America, although the 
 percentage of Episcopalian women who have en- 
 tered the suffrage movement in recent years is 
 rather phenomenal. 
 
 It Is the Evangelical churches — including for 
 this purpose the Unitarian and Universalist — 
 which throw open their buildings for lectures on 
 the commission form of government, the anti- 
 saloon movement, the initiative and referendum, 
 woman suffrage, and all manner of conferences 
 and conventions on these or any other serious 
 question that happens to be interesting the peo- 
 ple. This also has struck more than one exploring 
 foreign writer with amazement. 
 
BILLY GOES ON THE STUMP 209 
 
 Sara was an interesting study to Billy, who 
 learned many things from her. Life becomes a 
 very much more interesting thing when one can 
 see it objectively, as a picture, a story or a drama. 
 Billy was aware that she was living In one of the 
 greatest race dramas ever enacted In history: the 
 Assimilation of the American People. She saw 
 Sara and herself as figures in this drama. 
 
 Billy herself was one of that very large and 
 increasing class of perfectly moral and respectable 
 Americans who neither belong to nor attend any 
 church, and who never think much about religion. 
 
 She was, however, an irrevocable Protestant, 
 although she could no more accept the man Jesus, 
 whom she regarded as historical, as a god, than 
 she could accept the woman Mary as a goddess. 
 She regarded the churches as great human or- 
 ganizations, built by the race on Its way upward 
 because they served Its needs, and bound to con- 
 tinue as long as they served those needs and no 
 longer. The Catholic Church she regarded as 
 representing the principle of authority; the Pro- 
 testant division that of Individual responsibility. 
 She was on the side of Individual responsibility 
 because she couldn't be on any other. 
 
 But here was Sara McPIke, a person constitu- 
 tionally just as unadapted to unquestioning obedi- 
 ence as herself. Both had dents In their heads 
 where the bump of reverence ought to be. She 
 watched to see how Sara, who was a very loyal 
 
2IO CRAYON CLUE 
 
 and devoted Catholic, would work out her mental 
 relations with her own church. 
 
 She and Sara had come down in unbroken line 
 of descent from people who had hated, perse- 
 cuted and killed each other. What was much 
 more important, she herself had lived as a 
 child in an atmosphere of suspicion and prejudice 
 against both the church and the race to which 
 Sara belonged, and she had not a doubt that the 
 reverse had been true of Sara. Yet here they 
 were, fighting shoulder to shoulder, comrades 
 true. The assimilation had taken place. 
 
 Conover himself did no speaking. He was a 
 writer, not a speaker by trade. But he kept Billy 
 stocked up with facts and figures now pouring in 
 upon him from many sources, using them in his 
 paper after she had told them from the platform. 
 Whatever else the Forum did it always reported 
 her speeches, until the uninitiated came to think 
 that Wilhelmina Derwent Pennington was the last 
 word in wisdom, and was overturning the school 
 machine of Bartown by her own unaided might. 
 People began to come in droves from every part 
 of the city to any meeting where Miss Penning- 
 ton was to speak. Instead of having to negotiate 
 diplomatically for opportunities to be heard, invi- 
 tations now came pouring in upon her, and urgent 
 committees waited upon the Citizens' headquar- 
 ters, demanding Miss Pennington and no one else. 
 Sara and Mrs. Courtney were drafted into the 
 
BILLY GOES ON THE STUMP 211 
 
 service, and long before the campaign was over 
 all three were speaking every night before vari- 
 ous organizations, which Billy continued to be- 
 lieve were the most useful vehicles for the dis- 
 semination of her propaganda. 
 
 Many of these meetings were of women's or- 
 ganizations, but Billy took these just as eagerly 
 as she did those of men. For one thing, she never 
 had the slightest idea, from the beginning, that 
 the Citizens' Party would win the election. What 
 she was after was to enlighten the people on the 
 way their schools were being run. She went on 
 the principle that if you got a woman, in a move- 
 ment of this kind, she would get a man; but that 
 if you got a man it did not necessarily follow that 
 he would get a woman. A man may become 
 deeply interested in a political matter and never 
 mention it to his wife. But a woman can never 
 be thus aroused without immediately assailing her 
 husband with all manner of queries on the sub- 
 ject. She obeys St. Paul by asking her husband 
 at home about the matter. An evidence of this 
 is the curious fact of an increase in the male vote 
 in countries where women have the franchise. 
 
 Moreover, in this campaign Billy wanted to get 
 at that emotional quality in women by virtue of 
 which they get "worked up" over things. She 
 found a subtle difference in her men and women 
 audiences. It was as easy to educate and en- 
 lighten men as women, often easier. But after 
 
212 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 they were enlightened they did not feel the matter 
 to the same degree. More than once she had 
 been greeted with a roar of laughter when she 
 told something which she thought terrible. 
 Amused smiles greeted her revelations of graft 
 and trickery. Often, even in the house of her 
 friends, she felt that exasperated desire to "wipe 
 off that smile," which she had felt when standing 
 before the legislative committee. Billy came to 
 nurse a secret dislike for that masculine sense of 
 humor which has been so much extolled. 
 
 Audiences of women, on the contrary, were 
 much less cordial and hearty than men. It was 
 notoriously harder to secure applause from them, 
 or to get a laugh at a story. Many points which 
 the men caught Instantly seemed to pass over 
 them. But they took the matter seriously. They 
 were concerned over It. They thought It was 
 awful, and ought to be stopped. They Inquired 
 what they could do to help. Not Infrequently a 
 woman got "fighting mad" — roused to the depths 
 of her soul. Billy never addressed such a meet- 
 ing without getting one and often several workers 
 for the campaign. 
 
 Throughout the campaign the conviction grew 
 upon Billy that It was an injury to the body po- 
 litic that this quality so much more widely spread 
 among women than men, this touch of the emo- 
 tional In their feeling over any wrong or abuse 
 which they are made to see plainly, should not be 
 
BILLY GOES ON THE STUMP 213 
 
 brought into direct relation with the process of 
 governing; that it should have to work at second 
 hand, through others. And she felt also in the 
 women themselves the degenerating influence that 
 comes from lack of personal responsibility. The 
 care and protection of children has been the func- 
 tion of the female from the days of the horde 
 up, and stretches through the brute world below 
 us. Yet because the Interests of the children had 
 in this case been removed into the sphere of po- 
 litical action, because they could be affected only 
 through the election of a mayor who possessed 
 the power of appointing the School Board, many 
 of these women seemed to feel that the matter did 
 not concern them in the slightest degree. 
 
 Such a nerve-racking siege of day and night 
 work as Billy was going through cannot be kept 
 up very long with impunity by anyone. But one 
 mighty rehef was vouchsafed her from the first. 
 The Citizens' committee placed an automobile 
 at her disposal for the campaign. No more hang- 
 ing to street-car straps and weary searching for 
 strange addresses in the dark in going to meet- 
 ings. Instead, a velvet rolling closed limousine 
 with a taciturn youth on the front seat who 
 seemed to have in his head a map of Bartown to 
 its farthest suburb. 
 
 This beauteous car took Billy and Sara to their 
 meetings every night and brought them home 
 again, relieving them, they declared, of at least 
 
214 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 fifty per cent, of the effort. Billy did not know 
 till long after that Conover had offered the com- 
 mittee the use of one of his cars for the cam- 
 paign, with the strict proviso that it should be 
 at Miss Pennington's disposal every night. 
 
 The worry of clothes was also removed from 
 her mind. No work is so exacting in respect to 
 dress as that which demands appearance upon the 
 public platform, for people to stare at. This 
 was particularly irritating in Billy's case, for her 
 audiences varied from night to night in character, 
 and she often hardly knew what to dress for. 
 Her one "good dress" that winter was the much- 
 quoted brown velveteen, a most becoming gar- 
 ment, but to all intents and purposes a street 
 dress. It was suitable for many meetings, but 
 for others not at all. Billy not only felt that she 
 could not afford an evening gown, but that the 
 time and effort necessary to get one up — the shop- 
 ping, search for a dressmaker, trying on — would 
 prostrate her. Her school work and the cam- 
 paign were all she could carry. Any further de- 
 mand maddened her. 
 
 Into this breach stepped Mrs. Courtney with 
 the quiet assertion that Billy was to turn this all 
 over to her. 
 
 **Let me contribute this to the campaign, Billy," 
 said she; "you can give the dresses back after the 
 campaign is over if you don't wish to keep them. 
 
BILLY GOES ON THE STUMP 215 
 
 Just let me contribute the use of them as I would 
 the decorations of a meeting.'' 
 
 So a modiste took Billy's measurements, ad- 
 justed a dressmaker's form to them, and Billy 
 heard no more of the dresses till they came home; 
 two exquisite little one-piece gowns, a black lace 
 with jet about the bodice, elegant enough for 
 dress occasions and quiet enough for very plain 
 ones, which made Billy's skin look white as cream 
 and her hair as yellow as gold; and another of 
 corn-colored tissue, which exactly matched her 
 hair and made her look like a little French mar- 
 quise. 
 
 "Oh, dear," said Billy, who had struggled with 
 poverty all her life, "how money does ease every- 
 thing up." 
 
 Money, however, could not have bought her 
 the care she had at home. All the little household 
 duties In which she had always participated were 
 removed from her shoulders by the others. Her 
 room work was done, her stockings darned, her 
 clothes kept In order. And she was groomed like 
 a trotting horse. When she came In at night her 
 mother fed her with hot beef tea and massaged 
 her to sleep. Billy always said she never could 
 have gotten through that campaign If it hadn't 
 been for those kind hands, soothing and calming 
 her nerves to rest every night. Mrs. Pennington 
 was dubious about this business. She disliked all 
 this hard work and nerve strain for Billy. She 
 
'2l6 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 reflected sombrely on the dismissal from the 
 schools which was inevitable sooner or later. But 
 she said nothing, for she knew her daughter. She 
 knew her for a come outer by nature, one of the 
 tribe of Those Who Cannot Stand In; a soldier 
 of the Forlorn Hope. There was nothing to do 
 but ease her strenuous way. 
 
 If Mrs. Pennington had not been aware of 
 these qualities in her daughter she would have 
 discovered them on the day of the Hart theatre 
 meeting. This chapter has run ahead of its story. 
 That Hart theatre meeting produced one startling 
 result. 
 
 Both Dreiser and Brackett had been at that 
 meeting. Denny had told her so when he took 
 her home from the theatre. 
 
 Undressing for bed that night Billy informed 
 Ethel of this fact and then suddenly began to 
 laugh, quietly, but In an abandonment of mirth. 
 The fit had seized her when she was half un- 
 dressed, and she leaned back in her chair, one 
 shoe and stocking off and the other on, laughing 
 weakly, while one hand rose waveringly and fell 
 helplessly back upon her knee after the manner 
 of women convulsed with amusement. 
 
 "For pity^s sake, share it," cried Ethel. 
 
 "Why, do you know,'* gasped Billy, "half the 
 reason Denny hates Dreiser so is because he is a 
 German?" 
 
 "Is that so?" said Ethel. 
 
BILLY GOES ON THE STUMP 21^ 
 
 "Yes, he always calls him *that Dutchman.' 
 He never refers to him in any other way, only 
 sometimes he calls him *that damned Dutchman.' 
 And every time he sees him he hums that song, 
 you know 
 
 " ^There's nothing in this country but the con- 
 sarned Dutch.' " 
 
 "Well, I don't see why that amuses you so 
 deeply," said Ethel. 
 
 "Oh, I don't know," said Billy, wiping her 
 eyes; "it seems such a funny thing to hate any- 
 body for, and then Denny always makes me 
 laugh anyway, and then it always strikes me as 
 funny to see the various foreigners in this coun- 
 try hate each other. They're all willing to give 
 the Americans first place, but It makes them wild 
 if any race but their own is put next." 
 
 Ethel smiled upon her older sister, so much 
 smaller than herself. 
 
 "It's a good thing you get lots of amusement 
 out of watching people, Billy," said she, "it keeps 
 you going, I guess. But is Dreiser German?" 
 
 "Just about as much German as Denny is 
 Irish," said Billy; "that's what makes it so funny. 
 And say, do you know what Denny says was the 
 one thing I said that made Dreiser mad at the 
 hearing down at the legislature the other day?" 
 
 "No; what?" 
 
 "When I said that about the girls of course lik- 
 
2l8 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 ing young men of their own age better than a 
 man as old as Mr. Dreiser. Denny says he was 
 watching him and when I said that a look came In 
 his eyes as if he could kill me for a second. Did 
 you know he was sixty years old?" 
 
 "You don't say!" exclaimed Ethel. "I sup- 
 posed he was about forty-five." 
 
 "So does everybody. Denny says he's very 
 proud of that, and very sensitive about his real 
 age. Denny says he's a great lady's man. He 
 probably thought I knew his real age and was giv- 
 ing him a slap on it." And Miss Pennington dis- 
 solved Into helpless mirth again, deeply tickled, 
 apparently, at the discovery of this amiable weak- 
 ness in her superior. 
 
 The next evening there was a little impromptu 
 reception at the Pennington flat, the gang drop- 
 ping in unexpectedly, one after the other, to fe- 
 licitate Billy upon her success of the night before, 
 and discuss future plans. The Heavenly Twins, 
 as Billy called the McPIkes, were there, Mrs. 
 Courtney, Professor Andrews, Delia Perkins, and 
 Conover; this being the first time he had fore- 
 gathered socially with this cheerful crowd of con- 
 spirators. As they sat talking there was a ring 
 at the door bell, and a letter was handed in by 
 a special messenger. 
 
 Billy opened and read it and then began to 
 wallow in the same sort of convulsion as on the 
 night before, slapping her knee feebly, and other- 
 
BILLY GOES ON THE STUMP 219 
 
 Wise indicating approaching dissolution from pure 
 mirth. 
 
 "Here, here/' said Conover; "give us a look 
 in.'' 
 
 She pushed the letter toward him with a lax 
 and drooping hand, and continued to laugh. 
 Conover read it and then laughed in his turn. 
 Then he read it out loud and they all laughed. 
 
 It was a very polite and formal letter from 
 the Teachers' committee of the Board of Edu- 
 cation, offering Miss Pennington the principal- 
 ship of one of the buildings in the city. The 
 principal of this school had died a week before, 
 said the letter. Her place had been filled during 
 the past week by a substitute, but now the Board, 
 after due deliberation, desired to offer this posi- 
 tion to Miss Pennington in consideration of her 
 very fine record made during the past ten years 
 in the schools. 
 
 "Aha!" cried Conover, his blue eyes dancing, 
 "such a great light do our masters and rulers some- 
 times see." 
 
 "Sure the Forum had naught in the wurruld 
 to do wid this," observed Denny McPike. 
 
 "Nor the Hart theatre meeting last night," 
 said Mrs. Courtney. 
 
 "Will you take it?" they all cried in concert, 
 turning upon Billy. 
 
 "Take it? Of course not. What do you take 
 me for?" said she. 
 
220 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 "That's no way to do," observed Denny, "now 
 youVe terrorized the job out of them not to take 
 it. What have you been working this little game 
 for, anyway?'' 
 
 "Shut up, Denny," said his sister, "this Is no 
 joke. Billy, you can take It and keep right on 
 with the fight. This would put you under no ob- 
 ligations to these people. It's not their money 
 they'd be paying you, or their work you'd be 
 doing." 
 
 "Miss McPIke Is undoubtedly correct," said 
 Conover; "why not spoil the Egyptians?" 
 
 "Dutch," murmured Denny, sotto voce. 
 
 Billy looked up at Conover and found his look 
 fixed upon her with almost embarrassing Intent- 
 ness. 
 
 "You're all mistaken," said she simply; "those 
 considerations don't bother me any. I'll tell you 
 right now that I'd like to accept the promotion, 
 because the salary's twenty-five hundred, and I'm 
 getting only a thousand. But I can't." 
 
 "Why can't you?" 
 
 "Well, because I'm not built that way," said 
 she hesitatingly. "I can't take anything from 
 Dreiser." 
 
 The talk turned into an eager discussion of the 
 reasons of the offer. In which all hands agreed 
 that It looked as If "thim pirates" as Denny named 
 them, were very much alarmed and anxious to 
 bribe Billy into silence. In the midst of it they 
 
BILLY GOES ON THE STUMP 221 
 
 heard a very loud voice from the kitchen appar- 
 ently delivering an oration. 
 
 They looked about and perceived that Denny 
 and Ethel were no longer with them. A rush was 
 made for the kitchen, where they beheld Ethel 
 standing at the ironing board, upon which lay a 
 crisp white linen blouse, evidently engaged In 
 that favorite evening occupation of neat and im- 
 pecunious young ladies called "doing up a shirt 
 waist." She held a hot flatiron suspended in her 
 hand, and gazed with amazement at Denny, who 
 standing upon a chair in front of a large cup- 
 board declaimed these strange words: 
 
 "Parowax 
 
 Where I ax 
 Is the cussed stuff. 
 
 It's meself 
 
 O'er the shelf 
 Has looked and looked enough." 
 
 "What's the matter with Denny?" cried Billy. 
 
 "I don't know. I just asked him to get me 
 the parowax from the pantry shelf to clean my 
 irons with and he broke out like that," replied 
 Ethel In an Injured tone. 
 
 ** Parowax, 
 
 Break your backs, 
 Gosh, the deep disgrace, 
 
 Not to find 
 
 Any kind 
 Of grease to save yer face," 
 
 declaimed Denny. 
 
222 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 "Ah, he's Sheumas McManus, the last of the 
 harpers," said Sara. 
 
 "Don't call me a harp, I'll not stand it," said 
 Denny. 
 
 "It's what all the Gulns call you," said Billy 
 maliciously; "when they refer to your respected 
 race they say 'thim Harps.' " 
 
 Denny looked at her with sorrow in his eye 
 and said sadly: 
 
 "Oh, maiden rare, 
 Maiden fair, 
 
 Maid with the taffy-colored hair, 
 Why dost let no taffy slip 
 From that redly smiling lip? 
 Tell me that, you little rip." 
 
 "I wish you'd take him away," said Ethel help- 
 lessly, "I want to work. Take him In the sitting 
 room and see if you can't keep him still." 
 
 "Parowax, 
 Thumbletacks" — 
 
 screamed Denny defiantly, but was mauled and 
 hustled and not allowed to complete his poem. 
 They streamed back Into the sitting room and 
 Conover, dropping on the stool before the little 
 old upright piano struck the chords of "The Harp 
 That Once Through Tara's Halls." His touch 
 was good and he sang a stanza in a beautiful 
 clear tenor. 
 
BILLY GOES ON THE STUMP 223 
 
 "Join in, join in," he cried, but they would 
 not join in. They preferred to listen to him. Billy 
 slipped into a chair from which she could watch 
 his face as he sang, and sat with her head lean- 
 ing back, in an attitude of complete relaxation. 
 
 He did not look at her until he had finished. 
 Then, as the last exquisite note died he flashed a 
 glance her way and the blue eyes and the brown 
 ones met. 
 
 *'Who ever knew you could do this sort of 
 thing?" she murmured. 
 
 It was one of those gay, spontaneous hours 
 which cannot be planned or arranged. Long 
 after, when the sadness of the years drops down, 
 a few such hours can be seen, shining bright in 
 the long, dull line of gray ones, as the wayfarer 
 looks back. 
 
CHAPTER XII 
 In Which Billy Is Immersed in Politics 
 
 SUCH Idle Interludes were rare. The Citi- 
 zens' campaign, reinforced by the Forum, 
 was assuming formidable proportions, and the 
 school Issue loomed ever larger In its midst. 
 
 The citizens' ticket Is a well-known phenome- 
 non In American municipal politics, when the Re- 
 publican and Democratic parties, which obviously 
 have nothing to do with paving streets, running 
 schools and carting away garbage, become too 
 unpopular locally for further endurance. Toledo 
 seems to be the one American town In which 
 people have taken the government Into their own 
 hands and run it without reference to any na- 
 tional party for a long series of years; being edu- 
 cated thereto by the famous Golden Rule Jones, 
 whose mantle fell upon his accomplished literary 
 and criminal defending secretary, Brand Whlt- 
 lock. 
 
 But such movements are not infrequently suc- 
 cessful sporadically. In Bartown there were cer- 
 tainly reasons for the movement, plenty as black- 
 berries. But It had been started as a sort of silk 
 
 224 
 
BILLY IS IMMERSED IN POLITICS 225 
 
 Stocking affair which lacked warmth and popular 
 sympathy. The reformers engineering it were 
 justly enraged and disgusted at the graft In the 
 city government, and the intelligent smaller tax- 
 payers, aware that they were compelled to pay 
 more on their small properties than many a man 
 of great wealth, were ready to join them. But 
 you cannot rouse the great public over revela- 
 tions of graft alone, unless you show them how 
 human beings are Injured by it; and reformers are 
 often cold-blooded fish. 
 
 That warm human note which the campaign 
 had lacked came into it with the school Issue and 
 the people who were backing It. It speedily be- 
 came so much the most popular Issue of the 
 campaign that the rallying cry of "Save the 
 Schools" was adopted. 
 
 It spread like wildfire. Sullen rivers of dissat- 
 isfaction and disgust which had been flowing un- 
 derground burst to the surface and joined the 
 flood. Fresh tales and proofs rolled In from 
 people who found courage to speak when they 
 saw leaders come forward. Sores that had been 
 festering for years were exposed to view. A 
 group of the ablest men on the Forum city staff 
 were devoting their entire time to the campaign 
 and they featured the school Issue. Billy sud- 
 denly discovered that an American newspaper is 
 a pretty nice thing when it is on your side of the 
 game. 
 
226 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 It was at this time that Conover assumed the 
 active management of his paper which he has 
 never since resigned. He assumed it so actively 
 that there was no possibility of any misunder- 
 standing on the subject throughout the whole 
 plant. The Old Man, who was the human em- 
 bodiment of the forty-year-old Forum policy, and 
 whom Conover's own employees had believed he 
 could never get on without, was gently but defi- 
 nitely superseded. He continued to administer 
 the plant, but he no longer directed the policy 
 of the paper. 
 
 The Forum^s circulation increased enormously. 
 It was now seen in the street cars as much as any 
 paper except the yellows themselves, and on the 
 suburban trains it was in the hands of the com- 
 muters more frequently than any other. It re- 
 tained the conservative readers which had always 
 distinguished it, and could still boast that it was 
 the trusted visitor of the hearth and home in Bar- 
 town. Some of its old readers were infuriated 
 at It, but they read it more assiduously than ever, 
 to see what it would say next. Its advertising 
 rates, always high on account of the quality of 
 Its clientele, rose heavily with the leap in its cir- 
 culation. There had always been large sections 
 of the city where not a Forum could be found. 
 There was no longer a news stand In the city 
 without it, even in the foreign quarter. 
 
 The Forum was playing a big game. It was 
 
BILLY IS IMMERSED IN POLITICS' 227 
 
 fighting all the rest of the dailies in the city single- 
 handed, a spectacle which amazed and delighted 
 Bartown without measure. One paper, the News, 
 which had come out for the Citizens' ticket before 
 the school issue had been injected into the cam- 
 paign, now stood wavering with the agonized look 
 of one who has grasped an electric battery and 
 is unable to let go. No wonder, when it held a 
 lease from the School Board, good till 1985 with- 
 out revaluation, for its lot on Morris street for 
 $14,000 a year, while a smaller lot just across 
 the street paid $30,000 a year ground rent. And 
 it had already come out editorially for the ticket 
 supported by a colleague which was now cheer- 
 fully printing this fact as campaign material. 
 
 Bartown perceived the News^ dilemma and 
 laughed consumedly. 
 
 The Associated Press men and special corre- 
 spondents also hastened to their typewriters and 
 the whole country began to watch the fight that 
 the young millionaire was waging with his news- 
 paper as the weapon. Americans love a story of 
 a scrap like this, running day after day, cleverly 
 cartooned, in the papers. A greater percentage 
 of them read, enjoy and comprehend it than in 
 any other country on earth. The out-of-town 
 circulation of the Forum jumped almost as soon 
 as that in the city; and as the name of the Bar- 
 town school teacher who had started the fuss 
 came into every account of the campaign, it was 
 
228 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 at this time that Miss Pennington first began to 
 be heard of over the country. 
 
 The style of the Forum changed also. A peri- 
 odical column of dignified gossip, written by a 
 man under the name of the Countess of Fontenoy, 
 which had for many years Instructed and edified 
 the people with intimate facts concerning the 
 British nobility, was ruthlessly cut out. A cer- 
 tain tone of solemnity, of reverence, which had 
 pervaded all reference to the British royal fam- 
 ily ever since Conover's grandfather had been 
 ambassador at the Court of St. James many years 
 before, was distinctly, not to say Irreverently, 
 lightened. That elephantine, that pachydermic 
 seriousness with which the Forum had taken itself, 
 had vanished. It no longer seemed to regard 
 Itself as the guide and mentor of nations, mon- 
 archs and schools of thought. Instead it dis- 
 played an entirely unexpected and disconcerting 
 knowledge of some things transpiring under Its 
 own nose which was very offensive to those caus- 
 ing them to transpire. The ponderous sledge- 
 hammer seemed to have given way to the danc- 
 ing rapier In Its editorials. The deadly impor- 
 tance which had distinguished its style was re- 
 placed by a light and mocking note which roused, 
 stung, penetrated, amused and flayed. 
 
 Conover's joy In the fight, his satisfaction and 
 growing sense of power as he saw his policies 
 justified, the exercise of responsibility and author- 
 
BILLY IS IMMERSED IN POLITICS 229 
 
 ity, developed and matured him day by day. An 
 electric atmosphere seemed to envelop him. Joy 
 of life and lust of battle gleamed from his eye 
 and curled the smile upon his lip. 
 
 "I don't know that I ever would have taken 
 over the paper If you hadn't jarred me out of 
 my rut," he said to Billy one night In the car, 
 as they were going home from the meeting where 
 she had been speaking. 
 
 ''Nonsense, of course you would have taken 
 it over," said she. 
 
 "You are not aware. Miss Pennington," said 
 he, "of the awe of the Bartown Forum In which 
 I grew up. Why, my grandfather always took 
 off his hat the minute he stepped inside the door 
 of that office. I haven't recovered yet from the 
 discovery that Fm bigger than the paper. I was 
 always afraid to Interfere with the old sheet till 
 you came along and pried me loose. I tell you 
 what. Bill, my boy, there's more fun In running 
 a big American newspaper, when you own It, than 
 In any other stunt on earth. I'd rather have that 
 job than be a king." 
 
 "It's as big a job as a good many kings have," 
 said Billy. 
 
 "That's right. We're living In the biggest 
 and highest pressure and most Interesting and 
 romantic period and country this world ever saw. 
 Why, these malefactors of great wealth are play- 
 ing a game about a billion times bigger than it 
 
230 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 was when those old barons played it, swooping 
 down from those castles along the Rhine to hold 
 up the merchants' barges floating down the river 
 from Frankfort." 
 
 "I should say they were," said Billy, struck 
 by the comparison. 
 
 **Yes, imagine cleaning up a continent, a virgin 
 continent like America, gathering the control of 
 all its resources into a few hands, so fast as 
 they are doing it here. Why, it's practically all 
 been done since the Civil War. There never was 
 anything like it for dash and power and complete- 
 ness and magnificence since the Romans, and the 
 Romans did move so mortal slow, with nothing 
 but the horse and sail to get around with. 
 
 "Say Billy" — he laughed delightedly — "do you 
 know that old geezer Julius Klein has taken his 
 ad out of the paper because he says I'm attack- 
 ing his business?" 
 
 "Klein the department store man?" 
 
 "Same." 
 
 "The one that's on the School Board?" 
 
 "Yes, you see Julius has a little side line, be- 
 sides the department store. He holds a lease on 
 a lot at the southwest corner of Horner and Mor- 
 ris streets. That's one of the most valuable cor- 
 ners in the city. Julius means to build a new 
 department store on that corner, I think, but he 
 hasn't got around to it yet. Julius gets it for 
 fifteen thousand dollars a year, ground rent, and 
 
BILLY IS IMMERSED IN POLITICS 23 1 
 
 no taxes. There's a little old four-story building 
 on It, filled with old-fashioned, inconvenient of- 
 fices, which certainly would not be rented by the 
 class of men who occupy them if it weren't for 
 the location. And what do you think JuHus cleans 
 up on that old junk shop every year? Forty thou- 
 sand dollars net, that's all. Forty thousand dol- 
 lars a year due almost entirely to the value of the 
 land, gobbled out of the kiddies." 
 
 "And he was the man who was so horrified 
 at the idea of a woman like Kate Miller in the 
 schools," said Billy. 
 
 **Yes, poor Julius has a very refined nature. 
 That's the reason he's wringing the tears out of 
 his handkerchief now. I've made him smell to 
 heaven. I thought it was a pity to have the news- 
 papers suffer all the odium of this thing when 
 they're no worse than a lot of other Bartown 
 Christians, so I set the boys to searching the rec- 
 ords and they rooted out Julius. Oh, shucks; 
 here we are at your house. I wish you'd speak 
 a little farther out, Miss Pennington, so we 
 wouldn't get home quite so soon. Say, Billy, come 
 on down to Tortoni's, just for once, and get a 
 little hot supper. It'll do you good." 
 
 *'No, I won't do it. What's the use of your 
 asking me when you know I won't." 
 
 "Why not, you crank?" 
 
 "Because I can't put in four sessions a day. 
 
232 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 Three's enough. IVe got to have some sleep. 
 Good-night." And she fled up the steps. 
 
 Her reply was truthful as far as it went; but 
 she would not go out socially with Conover on 
 Friday or Saturday nights either, even when he 
 wished to make up a party. She felt that the 
 extreme publicity she was encountering, and the 
 antipathy she was rousing, made it wiser not to 
 offer a chance for connecting her name with that 
 of any man. She knew it was not wise to allow 
 him to come in the car when it came to take her 
 home after her meetings. But there was almost 
 no other time when they could discuss campaign 
 matters, so she permitted it occasionally, when he 
 had telephoned her about it beforehand. He had 
 tried to make it a regular thing, every evening; 
 and when she forbade it had laughed indulgently 
 and appeared again the next night. She had 
 thereupon walked out to the corner and taken a 
 street car home. This was sufficient. He came 
 no more without receiving her permission, and 
 this was not often. 
 
 A vague sense of danger lay in the back of 
 her brain. The offer of the principalship showed 
 that the school gang was sufficiently disturbed by 
 her operations to offer her a bribe. She had re- 
 fused the bribe. What would they do next? 
 
 Her friends wondered that Billy refused the 
 promotion. It was perfectly simple to her. She 
 would have had no more scruples in accepting the 
 
BILLY IS IMMERSED IN POLITICS 233 
 
 position and then continuing the fight than she 
 had had in receiving the stolen letters which con- 
 tained the proof of Dreiser's graft. Her sense of 
 honor did not trouble her in that direction. The 
 place where it pinched was In her scant service to 
 her class. The high point of Billy's morals was 
 her duty to her pupils, just as the high point in 
 morals for a good painter Is good painting, or 
 for an actor good acting. She felt throughout 
 this campaign that she was depriving her pupils of 
 energies which rightfully belonged to them, and 
 only consoled herself with the reflection that it 
 was for their ultimate benefit. But the teaching 
 of her class was a very simple matter. She could 
 get through It fairly well even under all the pres- 
 ent hindrances and drawbacks. But the new and 
 untried position of principal would have de- 
 manded all her time and strength at first. She 
 could not take It and keep on with her campaign. 
 Moreover, she knew that the offer was a farce; 
 that If the Citizens' ticket were defeated she 
 would be immediately turned out. And finally 
 and ultimately there was the real reason, which 
 was sufiiclent without any of the rest. This was 
 that she detested Dreiser so much that she could 
 not accept anything from him, even if it were 
 rightfully hers. Had he picked up a pocketbook 
 which she had dropped, and offered it to her, It 
 would have been repulsive to her to take it from 
 his hand. 
 
234 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 Her present position had not been given her by 
 him. She felt under no obligations to him for it. 
 And even this she knew was doomed. If they 
 did not discharge her after the campaign was 
 over, she knew that she would have to resign, be- 
 cause she could not work with these people any 
 longer. The atmosphere of the schools had be- 
 come too repulsive. She had to get out of it. 
 Where she was going or what she was going to 
 do she did not know, but this was not worrying 
 her. She had definitely put it away to be con- 
 sidered after the campaign was over. She pre- 
 ferred to hold her present position until the end 
 of the school year, because everything she said 
 upon the stump had so much more force when 
 it was known she was actually in the schools ; and 
 because it would be difficult to secure a position 
 In the schools of any other city before that time. 
 
 She and Conover were busy conspirators in 
 these days. Conover had brought two suits in 
 Miss Harcourt's name; the first against Brackett, 
 for damages In stating, to her great injury and 
 detriment, that she was insane. 
 
 *'He has forty-five hundred a year, and his 
 principals do all the work," said Billy vindic- 
 tively; "go after him and get some of it." The 
 second was against the School Board, requiring 
 it to show why it should not either reinstate Miss 
 Harcourt In her position, or pay her the balance 
 
BILLY IS IMMERSED IN POLITICS 235 
 
 of her year's salary from the day when she had 
 been discharged. 
 
 These two suits were now pending, and Con- 
 over would push them as soon as the end of the 
 campaign gave him a little more time. His own 
 attorney had them in hand and Miss Harcourt, 
 better and stronger than she had been for years 
 past, was ready to go upon the stand and con- 
 found her enemies. 
 
 The School Board had passed a resolution for- 
 bidding any teacher in its employ to take part in 
 any political campaign. 
 
 The Forum had thereupon secured an injunc- 
 tion forbidding the Board to discharge any em- 
 ployee for disobeying this order; and had an- 
 nounced that it would make the matter a test case, 
 if necessary, and carry it to the Supreme Court of 
 the United States, to decide whether a school 
 board had the right to control the time of teach- 
 ers out of school, or to forbid them the exercise 
 of rights guaranteed to American citizens gen- 
 erally under the Constitution. 
 
 The Board made no attempt to enforce its 
 rule, however, and Billy and Sara went on speak- 
 ing. 
 
 The Forum was also insistently demanding a 
 comprehensive Investigation into the conduct of 
 school affairs in Bartown for years past, and 
 pointing out the lines which such an investigation 
 should follow. 
 
236 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 It asked why the practice followed by the 
 School Board for more than a generation of re- 
 quiring a proviso in each land lease for a revalu- 
 ation every five years, had been set aside on a 
 specified date some years before. 
 
 It printed a list of prominent citizens of Bar- 
 town who had since appeared before the Board 
 either in person or by attorney and got their re- 
 valuation clause stricken out, and asked why. 
 
 It asked if there was anything in this for the 
 Board, and if so what? 
 
 It pointed out that the law provided that the 
 annual rental of school lands should be six per 
 cent, of their valuation. 
 
 It listed the school lots remaining in Bartown, 
 showed at what valuation per foot their rental 
 would place them, and then compared this with 
 the valuation at which adjacent lots were held and 
 sold. 
 
 It asked why the ground rent of the lot leased 
 by the Bartown Blade from the Board would 
 under the six per cent, rule make its valuation 
 $3,000 a foot, while an adjacent lot had been 
 sold at the time this figure was fixed for $7,000 
 a foot. 
 
 It printed a long list of other specific cases 
 like this. 
 
 This was Conover's contribution to the cam- 
 paign; the thing he loved to unload upon an out- 
 raged and insulted clientele of best citizens. 
 
BILLY IS IMMERSED IN POLITICS 237 
 
 But then, prompted thereto by Billy, the Forum 
 asked an Investigation as to why there were 
 42,000 children of school age in Bartown run- 
 ning the streets because there were no seats at 
 all for them in school. 
 
 It asked why 14,000 more of them could re- 
 ceive only half-day instruction, because they had 
 to give up their seats to another set of youngsters 
 for the rest of the day. 
 
 It asked why, in view of this fact, one hundred 
 and twenty-five rooms had been closed in the 
 school buildings of Bartown since the preceding 
 September. 
 
 It asked why 3,000 boys and girls of school 
 age were sentenced to jail every year in Bartown. 
 
 It showed not only graft, at which many people 
 laugh, but these logical and unavoidable results 
 of graft, at which no one laughs; for Americans 
 are an extremely humane people at heart. 
 
 It demanded an investigation into the relations 
 of Superintendent Dreiser with the Columbian 
 Book and the Northwestern Supply companies. 
 
 The Bartown School Board, they found, was 
 a pretty autocratic body. Under the city charter 
 no one had power to Investigate It except itself, 
 and no one could make it do anything it didn't 
 want to. It had a special tax of Its own, con- 
 trolled by itself, so that the Board of Estimate 
 could not bring It to time by cutting down its 
 appropriations. It consisted of nine members, 
 
238 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 who elected their own president, the latter voting 
 only when there was a tie. Of these nine mem- 
 bers three were appointed by each new mayor, 
 leaving on the board three who had been ap- 
 pointed two years before, and three who had been 
 appointed four years before. 
 
 "Even if we win we won't have a majority of 
 the Board,'' said Billy. 
 
 "The moral effect will make it the same as 
 a majority," said Conover confidently. "If we 
 win this election they'll lie down, you'll see. 
 Nobody can stand out in the long run against 
 public opinion in this country. The trouble 
 is nobody knows what public opinion is till 
 it speaks at the polls. If you read the Forum 
 nowadays you'd think it was all one way. But 
 if you read the rest of the great moral and 
 religious dailies of Bartown you'd think it was all 
 the other. And I don't know and they don't 
 know which is backed by a majority of the citi- 
 zens. You are surrounded by friends and sympa- 
 thizers of your way of thinking, and Dreiser is 
 too ; and neither of you has any way of knowing 
 which has the bigger bunch till they stand up to 
 be counted. These men in the street; plumbers 
 and gas-fitters, and counter jumpers, and all the 
 two and three thousand dollar a year crowd that 
 pile out to the residence districts every night and 
 back again in the morning — they haven't much to 
 do with running this country, but they're the jury I 
 
BILLY IS IMMERSED IN POLITICS 239 
 
 The lawyers yawp and the judge sits up there and 
 looks wise, but nobody knows how those twelve 
 men over In the jury box are going to vote. And 
 that's the way it is at election time." 
 
 "There wouldn't be any doubt about it this time 
 if the women were in the jury," said Billy. 
 
 "Oh no, I should say not," said Conover; "it 
 would be all our way this year if the women 
 could vote. Gee, wouldn't that be a walk-over!" 
 
 In fact the moral effect of the crusade had 
 already borne fruit. Miss Forrest walked into 
 Billy's classroom one morning, and without speak- 
 ing to her ordered the ten little third graders to 
 pack their books and stand up. When they were 
 ready she marched them out of the room and did 
 not return. 
 
 At the noon recess Billy found that the Third 
 Grade room downstairs had been reopened, al- 
 though she was never officially informed of that 
 fact by the principal. She did a little telephoning, 
 and found that various rooms were being reopened 
 over the city. 
 
 "Well, that's that much good accomplished, 
 anyway," said she as she rose from the instru- 
 ment, to a group of old Haswellites who stood 
 around her. 
 
 "Due to the power of the great Miss Penning- 
 ton," said the voice of the Spy, behind the group. 
 "How nice it must be to control a newspaper," 
 she continued; "it's so easy to become famous 
 
240 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 when one has a newspaper at one's disposal to 
 report all one's speeches." 
 
 Billy's personal relations at old 43 were not 
 very happy at this time. The Spy never let an 
 opportunity pass to say catty things, and Billy 
 never answered her, because it meant merely the 
 beginning of a squabble. Miss Forrest never 
 spoke to her at all any more, which rather grieved 
 Billy. It did not seem to her that she had de- 
 served it, but she reflected that the state of mind 
 of the person whose perception of justice far out- 
 runs his courage to stand up for it is never a pleas- 
 ant one. Brackett seemed to shun their building, 
 and for this she was grateful. She met him just 
 once after the campaign began, gumshoeing along 
 the hall in his usual way. He gave her a look 
 which was evil and unpleasant, but Billy was 
 pleased to see that he was no longer smiling. 
 
 It was impossible to keep her Sundays free, 
 although this was the one thing her mother tried 
 to insist on. One Sunday morning a young woman 
 appeared when breakfast was scarcely out of the 
 way, and begged to see Miss Pennington. Mrs. 
 Pennington refused, but the girl begged so hard 
 that Billy herself, in her morning gown, came out 
 into the hall. 
 
 "Now Billy," said Mrs. Pennington, exas- 
 perated, "go back there. What's the use of my 
 trying to protect you if you must trot out the 
 minute anyone comes?" 
 
BILLY IS IMMERSED IN POLITICS 24 1 
 
 But Billy was studying her visitor with sur- 
 prise. She had not recognized either her voice 
 or her name, but she knew her by sight for one of 
 the teachers appointed by Dreiser during the past 
 three years. She wondered if it were another spy. 
 
 "Oh, Miss Pennington,'' pleaded the girl, 
 "please see me. I have something to tell you 
 and I can't catch you any time during the week." 
 
 "Come in," said Billy; the girl's voice and face 
 impressed her as sincere. 
 
 "Miss Pennington," said the visitor, when they 
 were seated, "can't you do anything to help us 
 teachers who were appointed by Dreiser?" 
 
 "What do you mean?" said Billy. 
 
 "I believe they're all paying him a percentage 
 of their wages," said the girl in a low voice, giv- 
 ing an involuntary glance over her shoulder with 
 a frightened look. "I know I am. When I came 
 into the schools I supposed it was a regular thing. 
 But after a while I found out that the old teach- 
 ers, those that were here before Dreiser came, 
 didn't pay. It's only those Dreiser appointed 
 himself, and I don't know whether it's all of them 
 or not. But I know of three that do besides 
 myself." 
 
 "For mercy's sake," said Billy astounded, "tell 
 about it. Begin at the beginning." 
 
 The girl looked nervous and excited, and spoke 
 in the same way. "Pm so afraid he'll find out 
 
242 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 I've told/' said she; "I've wanted all winter to 
 tell you about it, but I was afraid. But now they 
 say he's afraid of you, and doesn't dare to fire 
 you, so perhaps you can help us. You know there 
 are always a lot more applicants for places in 
 the schools than there are positions. My folks 
 are poor, my father's just a workingman. They 
 made sacrifices to let me go through the high 
 school and training school. It was a great step 
 up for me to be a teacher. After I had gradu- 
 ated and filed my application, I received a noti- 
 fication to call on Mr. Dreiser on a certain day. 
 That's for the personal part of the requirements, 
 you know. They have to see what kind of looking 
 and acting persons we are before we can get an 
 appointment. 
 
 *'Mr. Dreiser had me come in his Inside office 
 and we sat and talked there alone. After a while 
 he said, 'If I appoint you I shall expect a com- 
 mission of five dollars a month from your salary.' 
 I was surprised and hesitated, and he said, *If you 
 went to an employment office or teachers' bureau 
 they would expect you to pay them for securing 
 you a position. This Is just the same.' 
 
 "Well, I saw that was true. So I agreed to 
 pay him, and when I got up to go away he said, 
 *If this becomes known you will lose your posi- 
 tion.' He scared me, there's something so cold 
 and awful about that man. Miss Pennington. I've 
 been afraid ever since, and I've paid and kept my 
 
BILLY IS IMMERSED IN POLITICS 243 
 
 mouth shut. Five dollars a month he's had, and 
 I getting only $60; more than eight per cent, of 
 my salary." 
 
 Billy sat dumfounded. This was something 
 she had never dreamed of. She marvelled how 
 It could have been kept so secret. 
 
 *'How was it paid?" she asked. "Did you 
 send it to him?" 
 
 "No, it's collected. A man named Krog comes 
 around; a regular little puppy dog he is, Miss 
 Pennington; just a little puppy dog for Dreiser. 
 He comes around every month the day after pay 
 day I and if I'm not there I'm to leave It in an 
 envelope for him. And I know he goes to the 
 other three I know about; but whether there 
 are any more, and whether he collects from them, 
 I don't know." 
 
 "How did you know of these three?" 
 
 "Why, they were all in my class in training 
 school, and we were friends, and so we've talked 
 It over and told each other. But we never dared 
 to speak of it even to each other till this winter, 
 since you've been working for the teachers. Then 
 we talked It over and decided that I should come 
 to you." 
 
 "Will you make an affidavit to this?" said 
 Billy. 
 
 "Oh, no. Miss Pennington, I couldn't let my 
 name be used at all," said the girl in a panic. 
 
 Billy studied her. She was very young, barely 
 
244 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 twenty-two. She looked and spoke Intelligently 
 enough, she was probably competent to teach the 
 small children of her class; had probably been a 
 fairly efficient student In the high and training 
 schools. But Billy saw that there was behind It 
 no experience or knowledge of the world, either 
 on the part of the girl herself or any of her fam- 
 ily. She surmised a background of humble unas- 
 sertive poverty, and In the girl herself she saw a 
 timid, submissive feminine little creature, quite 
 incapable of any act requiring risk or danger. 
 Dreiser had chosen his victim well. Yet how 
 could she blame the child, when she remembered 
 what had happened to Kate Miller and Mrs. 
 Merrill, women of character, standing and wide 
 acquaintance? 
 
 *'No wonder he wants young girls in the 
 schools," she thought. Aloud she said, ''Does 
 your father know this money is paid?" 
 
 "Yes, Miss Pennington." 
 
 *'I wonder he would stand It," said Billy. 
 
 *'0h. Miss Pennington," said the girl; "poor 
 people have to stand such things. What could 
 we do ? The only people that can fight such things 
 are those that have a pull. My father Is a team- 
 ster. He gets only $io a week. I earn more 
 than he does. My mother is a dressmaker. It*s 
 only because she works for the neighbors that way 
 that I could be kept In school. And my salary 
 means so much to the family, even after I've paid 
 
BILLY IS IMMERSED IN POLITICS 245 
 
 the five. I couldn't risk it, Miss Pennington; I 
 couldn't indeed. But that extra five would mean 
 a lot to us, and it does seem mean for Mr. Dreiser 
 to go on taking it. I didn't mind so much the 
 first year, because I really would have had to pay 
 a teachers' agency, you know. But I understand 
 Mr. Dreiser gets nine thousand a year, and it 
 doesn't seem fair for him to go on taking this 
 out of my poor little six hundred." 
 
 "Mr. Dreiser seems to think these schools are 
 run on the padrone system," said Billy; "he seems 
 to be endeavoring to acchmate the Camorra upon 
 American soil." 
 
 She talked with the girl and learned that the 
 other three who were paying were all young and 
 all from poor famihes like herself. Billy had 
 no doubt that they would all prove to be of the 
 same type of character; gentle, submissive, unas- 
 sertive, incapable of rebellion or defiance. As she 
 thought back over the last two years it seemed to 
 her that the lower grades in the schools were 
 filling up with girls of this type; colorless little 
 creatures who could be depended on to give no 
 trouble. There was one such at 43. Billy won- 
 dered if she were paying. 
 
 She took the names and addresses of the visitor 
 and the three others, promised her that none of 
 them should be gotten into trouble, and that she 
 would see what could be done to help them. 
 
246 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 Then she called up Conover and asked him if he 
 could take a run over. 
 
 "Fd have been here before now," answered 
 that youth promptly, "if I hadn't understood your 
 mother to say that anybody who came to your 
 house on a Sunday would live to be sorry for it.'* 
 
 ^'Mother's all right," said Billy laughing, "but 
 some new material has come in that I want to 
 consult you about. I don't know what to do 
 with it." 
 
 "Don't say another word," said Conover; "the 
 car's at the door. I'll be there before you get 
 the receiver down." 
 
 "I don't know what we can do," she said, after 
 she had laid the matter before him. "These girls 
 must not be endangered in their positions, either 
 now or at the end of the year. If we tell the 
 thing or print it and the authorities come back 
 at us, we haven't any proof." 
 
 "If you're positive it's a straight steer," said 
 Conover, "I'll risk printing it all right, and call- 
 ing on Dreiser to stop it. He'll never peep if it's 
 true." 
 
 Billy shook her head. 
 
 "If he's collecting from a great many," she 
 said slowly, "he might not be able to tell who 
 had given the thing away. But if only a few 
 are paying, he would know very quickly. And I 
 believe he would find out who told anyway. We 
 could let the whole thing rest, and if we win 
 
BILLY IS IMMERSED IN POLITICS 247 
 
 the campaign clean It up with the rest, in case we 
 are able to make a clean sweep. But in that case, 
 we couldn't use this material in the campaign, and 
 it's too good to lose. And he would go on col- 
 lecting from these poor kids for months longer." 
 
 Conover thought silently for a while and then 
 reached for his hat. 
 
 "I'll consult McMurray," said he, naming his 
 attorney. "He's busily engaged these days keep- 
 ing me out of jail, and he ought to show me how 
 to get a little hound like this Krog in. When 
 does your ghost walk?" 
 
 "The fourth Saturday in the month." 
 
 "Ah, then we couldn't catch him with the goods 
 on till the end of March. That would give us 
 just a week before election to spring the thing on 
 the public. But that would be elegant new stuff 
 to ring in the paper every day the last week 
 before election." 
 
 Conover had hardly left the house when the 
 bell rang again. This time a conventional card 
 was brought in. 
 
 "Well, I seem to be holding a reception," said 
 Billy; "I'll have to adopt a morning levee, French 
 eighteenth century style." 
 
 "I think you'll have to see this woman," said 
 Mrs. Pennington resignedly; "it's that mis- 
 sionary." 
 
 Billy looked at the card and saw a name 
 famous throughout the city, although the woman 
 
248 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 who bore it was known by sight to few. She was 
 a widow of means who, years before, had deliber- 
 ately rented an old house in the slums and had 
 moved down there to live. Information which 
 she had laid before the governor two years be- 
 fore had been the determining cause in the ap- 
 pointment of the commission to investigate the 
 white slave traffic, whose report was even now 
 startling the whole state with Its sensational 
 revelations. 
 
 "What can she want with me?" said Billy won- 
 deringly, and she rose and hastened to the sitting 
 room. 
 
 "Why, Mrs. Livingston," she said, with hands 
 outstretched; "will you pardon my informal ap- 
 pearance? I thought you would prefer me to 
 come at once rather than to keep you waiting 
 while I dressed." 
 
 "It Is for me to beg your pardon, Miss Pen- 
 nington," replied the other, "for breaking in upon 
 your one day of rest. But there is a phase of 
 this school matter which I thought you ought to 
 know, and there was no other time when I was 
 sure of catching you." 
 
 "I would get out of bed at midnight to hear 
 anything you had to tell me," said Billy simply, 
 sitting down on a low stool near the other. 
 
 She gazed up mith curiosity and Interest at 
 this remarkable woman. Mrs. Livingston was 
 tall, erect and patrician to her finger tips. A 
 
BILLY IS IMMERSED IN POLITICS 249 
 
 great black broadcloth cloak dropped from her 
 shoulders to her feet, with an effect both of aus- 
 terity and elegance. Upon her head she wore a 
 small close bonnet of black crepe, tied under her 
 chin with soft wide ties of cream mull. There 
 was a touch of the deaconness in this, although 
 she was allied with no religious order. Her hair 
 was gray, and her black eyes looked as if they 
 had seen many and grievous things. An air of 
 distinction enveloped her. 
 
 "Why, she's a howling swell," thought Billy; 
 "how strange that she should be so successful with 
 those people. But I guess that's the right type to 
 get on with them. A more ordinary sort of 
 person wouldn't impress them." 
 
 Mrs. Livingston smiled down at her small 
 hostess. 
 
 "You look so absurdly youthful. Miss Penning- 
 ton," said she. "I supposed it was a rather mid- 
 dle-aged person who had been stirring up such a 
 commotion." 
 
 Her smile faded quickly. 
 
 "There's a pubHc school down near where I 
 live," she continued. "For years it has been a 
 great centre of enlightenment in the neighbor- 
 hood. We have had some very fine women down 
 there; they made the school a very civilizing in- 
 fluence." 
 
 "Would that be old number 10?" said Billy. 
 
 "Yes; the quarter is largely Italian now, and 
 
250 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 completely foreign. I understand that last year 
 there were only four pupils in the school to whom 
 English was their native language. Few of the 
 grown people speak any English." 
 
 "I know," said Billy; "Dr. Haswell used to 
 say that that was one of the most important 
 schools in the city, and send his strongest teachers 
 there." 
 
 ^'Exactly. The character of the school has been 
 changing ever since the new administration came 
 in. There is a man principal there now. I under- 
 stand that a principal can have men teachers sent 
 him for his grades, if he asks for them, so far as 
 the supply lasts. 
 
 "There are still some women teachers at 10. 
 There are men teaching little children seven and 
 eight years old there, but still there are women 
 teachers In the lower rooms. But in the top story 
 there is one entire floor given over to seventh and 
 eighth grade classes. It is a mixed school, but 
 the boys and girls are in separate classes. On 
 that entire floor there is not a woman In any 
 capacity whatever." 
 
 She looked at Billy, and Billy threw up her 
 hands helplessly. "We have women matrons in 
 police stations and prisons," said the visitor; "we 
 have laws requiring women doctors in insane asy- 
 lums where women are confined. Girls are placed 
 entirely under the charge of women in reforma- 
 tories. We even demand matrons in public parks 
 
BILLY IS IMMERSED IN POLITICS 25 1 
 
 and recreation piers. I don't know why this 
 whole floor full of boys and girls at the most sus- 
 ceptible age should be left without a woman of 
 any description; even a secretary; even a scrub- 
 woman.'* 
 
 "Who's the district superintendent?" inquired 
 Billy. 
 
 "I understand it's a man named Brackett." 
 
 Billy sprang up. 
 
 "So it is," she cried; "I might have known it 
 even if I didn't remember it." 
 
 "The children there are just before the age 
 when they get their working papers," went on the 
 older woman. "They range from twelve to four- 
 teen. The girls are very largely Italian, and 
 they mature earlier and are a good deal more 
 susceptible than American girls. Moreover, the 
 children down there despise their parents, a good 
 many of them. They look down on their par- 
 ents as 'immigrants,' while considering them- 
 selves 'Americans.' And the parents, unac- 
 quainted with the laws, language or customs of 
 the country, are often unable to guide or advise 
 their children in any adequate manner. If there 
 is any place in the city where well-bred American 
 women are needed it is on that floor. But the 
 principal has said in public that he would prefer 
 the most incompetent man teacher ever known to 
 any woman teacher." 
 
252 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 "I know," said Billy; "I remember when he 
 said It." 
 
 "He Is of the race," continued Mrs. Livingston, 
 "which I have found furnishing more procurers 
 for the white slave traffic than any other. I pre- 
 sume you know what race that Is, without my 
 telling you. And he has only men of his own 
 race teaching under him. In fact, the men In the 
 grades are very largely of that race, and nearly 
 all of them are of some foreign race. I find 
 very few American men In the schools outside the 
 High School or the superintending positions. 
 And we ought not to have any foreign teachers 
 at all In the schools; at least not one who can 
 be distinguished In speech from the old stock. 
 The schools are the only place where thousands 
 of the foreign children can hear good English, 
 or come In contact with real Americans. There 
 Is not a man on that floor who speaks English 
 without an accent, and that alone should discharge 
 them from the schools. They would not dare put 
 them In the good residence districts." 
 
 "Dr. Haswell would never let In such men or 
 women, no matter what brilliant examinations 
 they passed," said Billy. 
 
 Mrs. Livingston began to gather her wraps 
 about her. 
 
 "These things I know," said she, with a barely 
 perceptible hesitation; "but there are some things 
 I don't know, that I can't say anything about. I 
 
BILLY IS IMMERSED IN POLITICS 253 
 
 can only suspect. But I do know that that floor, 
 under present conditions, would be an ideal pro- 
 curing ground." 
 
 "Merciful Heaven I" said Billy. 
 
 "Those girls are worth $250 a month," said 
 Mrs. Livingston, "for a short time. There Is 
 no other capacity in which they are worth more 
 than $20 a month at present. In that location, 
 with that class of girls, the city ought to be very 
 careful, very careful indeed, who it puts over 
 them." 
 
 Billy sat lost in thought. 
 
 "Mrs. Livingston," said she finally, "are you 
 willing to help the campaign?" 
 
 "I will do whatever you think best." 
 
 "Is your time at our disposal?" 
 
 "Absolutely." 
 
 "Well, I don't think a word had better be said 
 about this in public. The Forum would be glad 
 to publish a statement from you, but it would 
 instantly rouse race and sex prejudice and it is 
 too extreme. It would rouse sympathy for the 
 other side. People would say we were idea mad. 
 But I wish you would go personally to every set- 
 tlement, every charity worker, every home mis- 
 sionary. You know all those people, don't you?" 
 
 "Most of them." 
 
 "Well, make it your business to see and tell 
 every one of them what you have told me. It 
 will have more effect coming from you than from 
 
254 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 any other person in the city. And then if you 
 have any time left over, take the ministers in 
 turn; especially every one whose church does any- 
 thing in the way of institutional or home mission 
 work. The Salvation Army people, and the 
 American Volunteers you ought to see. You 
 know how to do it; see the leaders in every place 
 and get them worked up; get them nervous and 
 excited over it, if you can, and impress it on them 
 everywhere to get votes, votes, votes for the 
 Citizens ticket." 
 
 "I understand," said Mrs. Livingston rising; 
 "I won't take another minute of your time. I will 
 begin to-morrow morning and keep it up till elec- 
 tion day." 
 
 When she had gone Billy said to her mother, 
 "Lock that door and don't open it again to-day. 
 I can't keep this up all day." 
 
 This was the way material poured in upon her, 
 and such the tales of horror she told from the plat- 
 form, when they were not too bad to tell. 
 
 A new vigor had come into the Citizens' cam- 
 paign. The people very rarely win any fight 
 against the ruling classes entirely by themselves. 
 Often they do not count for very much more in 
 the contest than the slaves did in the Civil war. 
 A good share of the rights the people have won 
 have fallen to them because their rulers fell out 
 among themselves, and in the squabble the peo- 
 ple grabbed something. The kings, in the days 
 
BILLY IS IMMERSED IN POLITICS 255 
 
 when the kings ruled personally, were prone to 
 grant rights to their stout burghers when their 
 unruly cousins, the nobles, were making them- 
 selves disagreeable. 
 
 Capitalists finance nearly every anti-capitalist 
 fight In America, just as the silver barons for a 
 time financed the Populist party, which was al- 
 most entirely socialistic In its tendencies. The 
 people, those of them who are class conscious 
 and think about it at all, have an idea that the 
 capitalists always stand solidly together. They 
 do, except for scattering renegades, against So- 
 cialism, which attacks the foundations of private 
 property, and thus affects them all alike. But in 
 lesser contests for power there are always divi- 
 sions among them, caused by groups which see 
 an opportunity to utilize a movement among the 
 people to their own advantage. The whole cap- 
 italistic body in any locality is never profiting at 
 any one time by the particular form of graft 
 for whose scalp the people happen to be out at 
 that moment. 
 
 The people Interested In suppressing child labor 
 in this country, for instance, have found it quite 
 possible to rouse the sympathies of a railroad 
 magnate of humane tendencies. He is open to 
 conviction, his natural sentiments have free play, 
 he may contribute to the cause. Railroads can- 
 not employ child labor, and the railroad magnate 
 has no such overwhelming class feeling for his 
 
256 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 brother factory magnate as to render his stand 
 on the question a foregone conclusion. 
 
 In this Bartown school fight there was plenty 
 of that wealth, which the Socialists think is all 
 predatory, which was not profiting by the school 
 graft, and was therefore open to conviction on the 
 subject. And among the various financial institu- 
 tions of the city was one which found it desirable 
 to join the reformers. This was the First Na- 
 tional Bank, which had for many years been the 
 depository of the school funds. The School 
 Board, however, had a few years before trans- 
 ferred its account to the Second National, which 
 had managed to place and keep some useful 
 friends upon the Board. 
 
 These facts, of course, were not mentioned by 
 the Citizens, who welcomed the endorsement, co- 
 operation and contributions of the First National 
 with joy. The action of the First National caused 
 the Second National to jump into the ring with 
 haste, and the two banks fought bitterly through 
 the rest of the campaign. The matter of the 
 school funds was never mentioned by the papers 
 on either side. The fight was made with great 
 dignity upon the moral issues of the case, and the 
 interest which these bankers and their employees 
 showed in chalk, drawing books and such matters, 
 was most 'edifying. 
 
 About this time occurred the most remarkable 
 event of the whole campaign, to Billyhs mind. 
 
BILLY IS IMMERSED IN POLITICS 257 
 
 The Central Presbyterian Church Invited her to 
 occupy its pulpit one Sunday morning in March. 
 
 She had spoken in many churches, but the ma- 
 jority of them were small, poor churches of the 
 working people. Some were prosperous, well-to- 
 do organizations, but not one had been rich or 
 fashionable. Also she had spoken on week-day 
 evenings, and usually at meetings of subsidiary 
 organizations of the church. At most she had 
 been given the pulpit on a Sunday evening in some 
 small church. She had been among them enough 
 to know how rare and unusual a thing it was for 
 any pastor to give up his Sunday morning pulpit 
 to any but a strictly religious service, and when 
 she found the clergyman at the Central Presby- 
 terian warmly pressing her to take his she could 
 hardly believe her ears. 
 
 St. John in the Wilderness, the Episcopal ca- 
 thedral, named in the dark ages forty-five years 
 before when it really stood in the wilderness. In- 
 cluded of course the last word In social prestige 
 In Its membership. Fashion, excluslveness, wor- 
 shipped at St. John's. But even the cathedral had 
 not the solid wealth of the Central, which was 
 called the millionaire's church. Staid respectabil- 
 ity, unbroken conservatism, financial power, were 
 the hallmarks of the Central. 
 
 Billy was more scared at this prospect than 
 she had been at the Hart theatre meeting. With 
 a very concerned and serious face she went to the 
 
258 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 bookcase and took out her little Bible, an act 
 which nearly threw Conover, who happened to 
 be present at the moment, into internal convul- 
 sions. 
 
 Billy had been raised on the Bible. She was 
 in no wise unfamiliar with it. She found the 
 text she had in mind very quickly, in the i8th 
 chapter of Matthew. 
 
 "Whoso shall receive one such litde child in my name 
 receiveth me. 
 
 "But whoso shall offend one of these litde ones . . . 
 it were better for him that a millstone were hanged about 
 his neck, and that he were drowned in the depth of the 
 sea." 
 
 Billy preached a great sermon from that text. 
 She had shut herself up to prepare it. It being 
 impossible to escape people at home, she had gone 
 to Sara McPike's, and this Protestant sermon had 
 been prepared in this Catholic household. The 
 McPikes had shut her into Sara's bedroom, and 
 told her to lock the door, and Billy had sat on 
 the bed propped up against pillows and arranged 
 her thoughts, jotted down heads, and declaimed 
 softly to herself. She had grieved that she had 
 no more time to prepare, but she knew her sub- 
 ject so well that she required only to adapt it 
 properly to the occasion. She had speaking en- 
 gagements for both afternoon and evening, but 
 had shoved off both on Sara herself. And Sara 
 went to Protestant church next morning to hear 
 
BILLY IS IMMERSED IN POLITICS 259 
 
 Billy preach, having previously fortified herself 
 at early mass. 
 
 It was a new kind of audience to Billy, when 
 she rose, a slender black-robed figure, and faced 
 the great, packed auditorium; a somewhat terri- 
 fying audience. No friendly applause could greet 
 her here, and there was no little stir of pleased 
 interest. It was not exactly a hostile crowd, but 
 a strictly non-committal one. A good many were 
 not pleased at the innovation of a political speech 
 in their pulpit. Others were somewhat scandal- 
 ized at seeing a woman there, and a woman who 
 taught in their own public schools, who had 
 neither wealth nor social position. They would 
 have pardoned this in a woman who had been a 
 church missionary, or a worker of national repute 
 in some great movement. But a Bartown girl 
 who had merely come into more or less news- 
 paper prominence in the course of a squabble over 
 school politics — only the endorsement of the pas- 
 tor made it permissible. 
 
 Billy felt the deadly reserve of the audience. 
 But her recent experience came to her aid. She 
 had found that no matter where she spoke she 
 got a response; that some in the audience were 
 friendly; that she made some converts, that some 
 were roused to thought and action. She had 
 found this particularly in the churches; and she 
 had come to the conclusion that the instincts of 
 the mass of church people are naturally good, 
 
260 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 and that the churches should be the chief source 
 of sympathy and aid for reform movements. 
 
 She began with courage, therefore, and before 
 long, as usual, she began to get her response. 
 The applause which usually indicated it was nec- 
 essarily lacking, but she felt it nevertheless. And 
 the impromptu reception which followed at all her 
 meetings, when people surged forward to meet 
 and speak with her, had never been larger than 
 on this occasion. She stood beside the minister 
 down in front of the rostrum after the service, 
 and the people poured by In a great throng, stop- 
 ping to speak and shake hands. Sara's smiling 
 face drifted by in the tide, and as she floated past 
 she breathed, *'It's all right, partner." Mrs. 
 Courtney, who had deserted the Episcopalians for 
 the day, with beaming face presented friends 
 whom she had found in the audience. And on 
 the outskirts of the crowd Billy marked Conover's 
 dancing eye, telegraphing electric signals of joy 
 and amusement to her above the heads over which 
 his own towered. 
 
 He had beside him a young woman whose 
 clothes had a subtle touch which was not Bar- 
 tonian; whom he made known, when they finally 
 reached Billy, as a married cousin recently re- 
 turned from a prolonged residence In Europe. 
 This, lady, who seemed a very able young person, 
 carried off Miss Pennington and Mr. Conover to 
 
BILLY IS IMMERSED IN POLITICS 26 1 
 
 dinner, In a neat little electric coupe, driven by her- 
 self, which had violets in the flower holder. 
 
 There were two other guests at dinner, both 
 men, and Mrs. Wyndham was able to entertain 
 them all. She kept the ball of conversation tos- 
 sing with that light and dainty touch of which 
 she was mistress, and Billy did not have to talk 
 much, for which she was thankful. The cam- 
 paign was a leading topic of conversation, but 
 Conover wagged an able tongue, so that she did 
 not have to repeat her speech In answer to ques- 
 tions; one of the most exhausting things that a 
 speaker can suffer. 
 
 After dinner she had a few minutes alone with 
 Conover In the library. 
 
 "The thing that pleased me most about this," 
 said she earnestly, "is the way the moral sense 
 of the community has been aroused. Don't you 
 think it was wonderful that that great, rich, con- 
 servative church should have felt the importance 
 of the cause sufficiently to ask me to speak?" 
 
 The dancing light in Conover's blue eyes grew 
 impish. "Oh, Billy, Billy, you innocent kid," 
 said he. 
 
 "What do you mean?" she demanded. 
 
 "Why, don't you know that Rufus Peters, presi- 
 dent of the First National, is the high muckymuck 
 at the Central?" said he. "Rufus is deacon or 
 elder or something there. Rufus recently signed 
 a check for $25,000 for a new parsonage. You 
 
262 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 wouldn't expect the parson to refuse him a little 
 thing like this after that, would you?" 
 
 Billy turned a grieved face upon him, and said 
 not a word. The mocking light died in Conover's 
 sparkling orbs. 
 
 "Oh, Billy," he said, leaning towards her and 
 speaking seriously, "don't feel bad. It does hurt 
 you so to lose Illusions. Why, my dear girl, that's 
 the way things get done, and reforms get accom- 
 plished. It Isn't always profitable for people to 
 be bad. It Is often profitable for them to be 
 good. When we get the world fixed so It will be 
 profitable for them to be good all the time, people 
 won't have to wear themselves out over such 
 campaigns as you are waging now. You made It 
 profitable for the president of the First National 
 to help a good cause along, and he helped it." 
 
 "I don't see that I had much to do with it," 
 said Billy. 
 
 "You started It, didn't you?" said Conover. 
 "And then old Rufe went down to hear you speak 
 at that Citizens' rally last Wednesday night. He 
 couldn't get a seat, and he stood back by the door 
 clear through your speech, with his hat and cane 
 in his hand, and those white side whiskers and 
 that solemn Presbyterian mug of his In bold relief 
 among the surrounding canaille. If he hadn't 
 satisfied himself that you were a proper young 
 person to speak in the Presbyterian church you 
 can bet you wouldn't have got there. And you 
 
BILLY IS IMMERSED IN POLITICS 263 
 
 may be sure that under no circumstances would 
 you have been asked If you hadn't had a moral 
 Issue to present. You can bet your life that the 
 Second National won't open up any church pulpit 
 to Dreiser. The protection of the crooks Is non- 
 publlclty. It's only the decent people that can 
 seek the fierce light." 
 
 *'It makes It all so sordid," said Billy, for- 
 lornly. 
 
 "Why, Billy," said Conover, "you can't expect 
 that any great number are going to sacrifice any- 
 thing for the pubhc good. Only a small, picked 
 fraction will do that at any time. Not one In a 
 thousand will risk a job as you have done In this 
 campaign. That's the great thing that's given 
 you your power. When you see people putting 
 up a lot of money and hard work for a cause, you 
 may usually calculate that there's something In It 
 for them; but that doesn't necessarily make the 
 cause bad, nor their act bad." 
 
 "Then what are you after?" said Billy. 
 
 The long black lashes dropped over Conover's 
 blue eyes, and that fascinating. Impish smile 
 curved his lips In an Intimate way. "I'm going 
 to get something out of It," said he; "you can bet 
 your boots on that." 
 
 After this revelation, when Mrs. Jimmy Wynd- 
 ham gave an evening "drawing-room meeting," 
 at which Bill was invited to explain the issues of 
 the campaign to the men and women of the local 
 
264 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 smart set, she of course saw Conover*s fairy 
 hand In the event. 
 
 But she did not know that that reception was 
 as much for her sake as for the campaign. And 
 she did not know that Conover had got his cousin, 
 who was his nearest and smartest female rela- 
 tive, over from Paris solely to give that reception. 
 And Mrs. Jimmy didn't know it either. 
 
CHAPTER XIII 
 In Which Billy Sees Trouble 
 
 BILLY ?" said Mrs. Pennington's voice from 
 her bedroom. 
 
 "Yes," said Billy, adjusting the night lock, 
 "where are the girls?" 
 
 "Edith's gone to bed," said her mother; 
 "Ethel's with you, isn't she?" 
 
 "No," said Billy tranquilly, "I haven't seen 
 Ethel since morning." 
 
 Mrs. Pennington appeared at the door of her 
 room, not yet frightened, merely surprised. 
 
 "Why, she left after dinner to go to your meet- 
 ing," she said, "saying she would come home with 
 you in the car." 
 
 Billy had dined with Sara that night, and they 
 had gone off to an evening meeting together 
 afterward. 
 
 "She never came," said Billy; "I haven't seen 
 her since breakfast." 
 
 Mrs. Pennington began to look frightened. 
 
 "Then where can she be?" she said. 
 
 Ethel was not like Billy, with a host of friends 
 upon any one of whom she might have descended 
 
 265 
 
266 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 unexpectedly to spend the evening or even pass 
 the night. She was a quiet, somewhat shy girl, 
 whose life was spent between her office and her 
 home. Casting their minds over her circle of ac- 
 quaintances they could think of only two or three 
 to whom she might have gone without invitation 
 or previous plan, and even these were primarily 
 Billy's friends, and not her own. 
 
 Billy hastened to the telephone and called them 
 up, one after another, although with a strange 
 sinking of the heart, for it was not like Ethel to 
 do anything of this kind. No unexpected change 
 of plans on her own part would surprise any- 
 body, but she could not remember that Ethel had 
 ever done a thing like this before in her life. 
 
 No one whom she called had seen or heard of 
 Ethel. She could have kept it up and called every 
 friend and acquaintance of the family who pos- 
 sessed a telephone, but it impressed her as 
 absurd. 
 
 "She has been hit by an automobile!" cried 
 Mrs. Pennington; "she is lying senseless at some 
 hospital I" 
 
 "Fm afraid so," said Billy; "it's either that or 
 some perfectly simple thing. It's possible that 
 she met some friend on the street and went off 
 to the theatre. In that case she'll be back in a 
 few minutes." 
 
 "Nonsense," exclaimed Mrs. Pennington; 
 theatre engagements don't happen along on the 
 
BILLY SEES TROUBLE 267 
 
 Street half an hour before the curtain goes up. 
 She's been hit by an automobile." 
 
 With trembling fingers Billy sought the number 
 of the police headquarters, then hesitated when 
 she had found it and said to her mother, "Had 
 we better?" 
 
 "Why not?" demanded Mrs. Pennington. 
 
 "She may come walking in here any minute, or 
 the explanation may be perfectly simple. Then 
 any publicity would be horrid for her." 
 
 "But she may lie dying this minute at some 
 hospital," cried Mrs. Pennington, "unable to tell 
 who she is, and I may never see her alive again if 
 we don't hurry." 
 
 Thus adjured Billy's hand sought the instru- 
 ment, but still wavering, as if by itself it were 
 trying to combat her resolution. Vaguely she 
 sensed danger. She gave Conover's number in- 
 stead of that of the headquarters. She caught 
 him in his office at the Forum, just on the point 
 of leaving, and he came tearing up in the car. 
 He understood instantly her half formulated 
 fears of notifying the police. 
 
 "No, no," he said, "don't put them on till we 
 have to. It doesn't do a young girl any good to 
 have it known she's disappeared from home. 
 We'll go to Bram's. They're the best private de- 
 tective agency in town. Get ready and come with 
 me, Mrs. Pennington, and bring Ethel's photo- 
 graph. You too, Miss Edith, you talked with 
 
268 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 Ethel before she left. Billy, do you stay here. 
 Let's not connect your name with this unless we 
 have to. And someone must be here in case she 
 comes walking in. Cheer up, Mrs. Pennington, 
 she may be here when we get back.'* 
 
 The minutes crawled like hours, but at last they 
 returned. 
 
 ''She isn't at any of the hospitals," said Con- 
 over gravely. "They covered them all from 
 Bram's by phone while we were there, without 
 giving her name. No young woman of any de- 
 scription has been brought in at any one of them 
 since 7.30, when Ethel left. They will notify 
 Bram's instantly if one is brought in. I have got 
 every available man they have on the case. They 
 are out covering the depots now and the places 
 where it is likely such a girl might have been 
 taken." 
 
 There was no sleep for the stricken family 
 that night, and they practically lived without any 
 for three days and nights. Billy could not go to 
 school next day, nor could she keep her speaking 
 engagement that evening. She sent word that she 
 was ill and arranged for substitutes to be put in 
 her place. When word went out that she was 
 sick, the rush to the house and constant telephone 
 inquiries for her, all of which had to be answered 
 with lies, became maddening. 
 
 In addition to the suffering of agonized sus- 
 pense there came upon Billy now that fear from 
 
BILLY SEES TROUBLE 269 
 
 which she had been free hitherto, from which 
 Ethel had protected her; the fear of being left 
 without funds. Ethel's salary had stopped. They 
 had called up from her office to inquire if she 
 were ill, had been told that she was, and that 
 they would be notified when she was able to re- 
 turn. The family had no means of knowing how 
 long her position would be retained for her. 
 There was pressing need for immediate and un- 
 usual expenditures. Billy's own salary must not 
 stop. Suddenly her position, which she had risked 
 so debonairly, became of dire importance. It 
 must not be lost. 
 
 So Billy staggered off to school, white and hag- 
 gard, on the third day, but was unable to finish 
 the session. The anxiety was killing her. She 
 saw nervous breakdown, despair and desperation 
 ahead of her, and she could not help it or control 
 herself. Her mental anguish was too great. In 
 the midst of it came just one lightening. 
 
 There was a business meeting of the Teachers' 
 Association scheduled for that day after school, 
 and Billy was on the programme for the presenta- 
 tion of various important matters. She sent Sara 
 instead. Sara, her blue Irish eyes misty with the 
 warmth of the heart within her, made the speech 
 of her life. She told the meeting that Billy was 
 breaking down, as might have been expected, and 
 would be unable to keep up her campaign work 
 and her school also. 
 
270 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 There were three thousand teachers In the As- 
 sociation now. Excitement over the campaign 
 was at fever heat. They had seen the rooms re- 
 opened, relieving many of them from brutal over- 
 work and annoyance. They knew that the pub- 
 licity and public sentiment which had compelled 
 this were due to Billy Pennington and no one 
 else. With the winning of the Citizens they saw 
 Dreiser discharged, another Haswell in his place, 
 and the chalk, the abominable chalk, removed 
 from their rooms. They were frightened at the 
 thought of Billy dropping out of the campaign at 
 this critical stage. They did what no other teach- 
 ers' association in America had ever done at that 
 time, although others have followed the example 
 since. They appointed Billy Pennington Business 
 Agent of the Association, to devote her entire 
 time to looking after its interests; and voted her a 
 salary of $1,200 a year. 
 
 When Sara made Billy understand this, she 
 burst into tears, the first since the disappearance 
 of Ethel. 
 
 "Oh, Sara,'' said she, "thank God for that re- 
 lief. I won't have to go back into that school- 
 room with this awful thing upon me. Sara, what 
 have I done to have such friends as you?" 
 
 "My poor kid," said Sara, "what have you 
 done to have the trouble that's come to you? Ah, 
 Billy, dear, I'm saying an Ave to the Virgin every 
 
BILLY SEES TROUBLE 27 1 
 
 minute in my heart for the return of Ethel. She 
 has the heart of a Mother. She cannot refuse." 
 
 That was the evening of the third day. Billy 
 telephoned her resignation to the superintendent's 
 office the next morning, and notified them to send 
 a substitute to her room. She had not supposed 
 that anything would give her a sensation of re- 
 lief, but she found that the certainty of an income, 
 for the next few months at any rate, and the 
 fact that she could have a few days' rest from 
 all outside duties, with the word gone out that 
 she was to be left undisturbed lifted her out of 
 her half-crazed condition. It allowed her to give 
 her thoughts to the problem which confronted 
 them, without other anxieties to madden her. 
 
 The utter silence was the most terrifying fea- 
 ture of the affair. Not a clue, not a suggestion 
 had arisen. One thing only seemed certain. 
 Ethel was not dead or injured. Neither morgue, 
 hospital nor police station had received her. It 
 was unthinkable that, if she had been suddenly 
 stricken down in some way that prevented com- 
 munication with the family and rescued by pri- 
 vate parties, the latter would not have notified the 
 police. If some fiend had murdered her where 
 was the body? It is one of the most impossible 
 things in the world to conceal a human body. 
 This horrible possibility of course existed, but 
 pending the discovery of her person, dead or 
 alive, the two alternatives confronted them that 
 
272 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 Ethel was either held a captive, or had gone 
 away of her own accord. 
 
 It was the attitude of the agency on this point 
 that prompted Billy more than anything else to 
 continue the secrecy which had been maintained 
 in the affair. The men there hardly tried to con- 
 ceal their belief that Ethel had vanished pur- 
 posely. They pointed out that she had left home 
 at half past seven in the evening. Had she gone 
 where she said she was going, to her sister's meet- 
 ing, half an hour's travel in the most common- 
 place of street cars along brilliantly lighted streets 
 would have sufficed to take her to the hall. Dur- 
 ing that brief half hour, early in the evening, amid 
 streets full of people, she was kidnapped if kid- 
 napped she had been. She was a tall, well-built, 
 intelligent woman of twenty-four, accustomed to 
 going alone about the big city where she had 
 lived all her life. The detectives shrugged their 
 shoulders at a kidnapping theory. 
 
 Inquiry at the street car barn had revealed the 
 particular cars which must have been near Ethel's 
 corner at the time she had boarded one that 
 evening. The conductor of each had been found, 
 and Ethel's picture submitted to them. Not one 
 remembered seeing her that evening. One knew 
 her well by sight, as she often travelled on his 
 car coming home from the office, but he had not 
 noticed her that evening. He was sure that he 
 would have done so had she boarded his car. 
 
BILLY SEES TROUBLE 273 
 
 The point at which the girl must have trans- 
 ferred, had she gone to the meeting, was the 
 corner of Hickox and L streets. There was usu- 
 ally a rather long wait there. Passengers using 
 that transfer often stepped into a drugstore on 
 the corner, or stood in the covered doorway, es- 
 pecially in bad weather. The detective had taken 
 the photograph to the drugstore, but none of 
 the men there recognized it, or could recall having 
 seen anyone resembling it. 
 
 "Of course," remarked the man who was mak- 
 ing the report, "if the matter were given news- 
 paper publicity, and her picture printed, persons 
 who had transferred from that same car, might 
 come forward and report seeing her on the cor- 
 ner that night. They might tell what she had 
 done and where she had gone. It's very unlikely 
 that she went on from that point on the street car. 
 Cars on that line are not crowded at that point, 
 and there are not many of them. We have found 
 the one which she must have taken if she left 
 home at seven thirty and went directly there. 
 The conductor remembers perfectly well who got 
 on at that corner that trip. There were only four 
 persons, and he remembers them all." 
 
 "Of course," he continued, after another pause, 
 "if she really started for the meeting, as she said 
 she was going to when she left the house, there 
 were just three points at which she could have 
 been kidnapped; down here at your own corner, 
 
274 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 before the car came along; at the transfer point, 
 and at the corner where she finally got off. 
 
 "She would have arrived at her terminal cor- 
 ner just after eight o'clock. The street car office 
 reckons that 37 minutes would be schedule time 
 from her home to that point, and we have looked 
 up the time cards and found there was no block, 
 breakdown, or unusual delay of any kind on the 
 lines she employed that night. She would de- 
 scend from the car then at exactly the time the 
 people would be pouring into the meeting, and she 
 would alight exactly in front of the hall. It is 
 impossible that she should have been kidnapped 
 there. 
 
 *'The corner near your home is a corner of 
 little shops. They are all up and down both 
 sides of the street, there are plenty of people 
 about, and it is a neighborhood where she is 
 known by sight. You can't tell me she was kid- 
 napped there. 
 
 *'There remains the transfer point, at Hickox 
 and L. That's a residence district; on three cor- 
 ners there are large houses standing back from 
 the street in grounds of their own and there are 
 not many people about there. But the very place 
 where she would go to get her car would be right 
 in front of the drugstore, with its big windows and 
 bright lights, on the fourth corner. It is impos- 
 sible that any struggle, at any rate, could have 
 
BILLY SEES TROUBLE 275 
 
 occurred there without attracting the attention of 
 the drugstore people." 
 
 Billy had a flash of vision. 
 
 *'But there wasn't any struggle," said she; "they 
 told her something." 
 
 "Told her something?" said the detective. 
 
 "Yes," said Billy slowly, "and it was some- 
 thing about me. You see — mother and Edith 
 were at home — she knew — that they were all 
 right. It must have been something about me." 
 
 "It might have been done that way, of course," 
 admitted the detective. 
 
 But she could see that he was sceptical. All 
 people who deal with crime grow used to seeing 
 the great mass of it take place along certain 
 stereotyped lines, and for certain stereotyped rea- 
 sons. They grow sceptical concerning the unu- 
 sual or bizarre. The head of the agency had 
 known a good many missing girls who were found 
 to have gone away voluntarily, even when their 
 lives seemed as much an open book as Ethel Pen- 
 nington's. When a girl goes in that way it is 
 because the man is married, and no girl reveals an 
 affair with a married man to her family. 
 
 He admitted Instantly that kidnapping girls 
 for the white slave traffic went on, although such 
 cases did not come his way, the parents of such 
 girls being unable to employ private detectives. 
 But none of that gentry would touch a girl of the 
 caliber of Ethel Pennington. She was known, she 
 
276 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 had friends, her very aspect and age were enough 
 to protect her. The girls dealt with by this trade 
 were little foolish Ignorant girls of 14 or 16, who 
 were enticed into a room and locked in, or fooled 
 by a pretended marriage, or who drank with 
 strangers, or something of that kind. Kidnapping 
 for ransom was of course absurd, in view of the 
 modest circumstances of the family. The detec- 
 tive had in fact cast a private thought in this direc- 
 tion when he knew who Conover was, but decided 
 immediately that if anyone was after a big ran- 
 som from him they would have taken the older 
 sister instead of the younger. 
 
 And all the time these conjectures were under 
 review Billy's mind was saying to her: "This is 
 what they have done to me. This is what they 
 have done to me. They kicked out Mrs. Merrill, 
 they smirched Miss Harcourt, they smirched Kate 
 Miller, and this is what they have done to me." 
 
 The head of the agency simply waved any 
 suspicions of Dreiser aside as puerile. 
 
 *'What could he gain by it?'* was his one unan- 
 swerable reply. "She has nothing to do with the 
 campaign. That goes right on. And when he is 
 discovered, as he would have to be In time, for a 
 man cannot keep a woman imprisoned indefinitely 
 — it would ruin him for life." 
 
 Below and beyond this logical view of the case 
 was an utter contempt for the idea which was 
 constitutional and temperamental. He knew of 
 
BILLY SEES TROUBLE 277 
 
 course about the hotly fought campaign that was 
 going on about him, but he could not conceive that 
 any woman could be of real importance in it. As 
 for their doing such a risky thing to punish or re- 
 venge themselves on this little teacher, he re- 
 garded the idea as silly. They might discharge 
 her, perhaps, and he privately considered that 
 she ought to be discharged in the maintenance of 
 discipline; but anything more he considered mere 
 melodrama, emanating from a hysterical girl. 
 Even Conover's credence of this theory had no 
 effect upon him, for he privately believed Conover 
 to be in love with the girl, and therefore not 
 accountable. 
 
 No; the detective^s own theory was far dif- 
 ferent. Ethel's life had been simple and quiet, 
 but there was one place where she came into daily 
 contact with a large number of men: her office. 
 Some of these men were highly paid employees, 
 married men living in good style. He had kfiown 
 an occasional office girl to graduate to a second 
 establishment set up by such a man. His idea 
 was to investigate and trail every such man in the 
 office, and find out all about his private life; a 
 somewhat lengthy and expensive job. Billy ab- 
 ruptly refused, because she knew the idea was an 
 absurdity, and came away from the interview de- 
 spairing of any clue. 
 
 Billy knew that Ethel had not gone away volun- 
 tarily, because she knew Ethel. She knew that no 
 
278 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 consideration whatever would keep Ethel from 
 relieving the anxiety of her family if she were 
 free to post a letter. Billy knew this, the family 
 knew it, a few of their most intimate friends 
 knew it. But no one else would know it. The 
 attitude of the very men they were employing 
 showed that. She saw the interpretation that the 
 public generally would put upon the facts the 
 moment they became known. 
 
 She saw the story spread over the front pages 
 of the newspapers. She saw her own prominence 
 used to give it piquancy; every detail of her par- 
 ticipation in the campaign dragged in to make the 
 story sensational. Had the entire family been as 
 unknown as Ethel herself, reasonable space and 
 a lenient or indifferent interpretation of the facts 
 might have been possible. But with the campaign 
 at its height and her own name in the mouth of 
 every politician in the city, she saw the story 
 that the papers would make. 
 
 Every daily in the city was against her except 
 the Forum. They had said nothing against her 
 personally, because there had been nothing they 
 could say. She knew how they would gloat over 
 this chance to represent a scandal in the family; 
 how carefully the non-libellous slurs would be 
 slung at Ethel, with "alleged," and "said to be,'' 
 and quotations from the opinions of the police. 
 
 The whole police force of the city was against 
 the Citizens, and working for the present mayor, 
 
BILLY SEES TROUBLE 279 
 
 under whom the chief held his appointment. She 
 saw how instantly they would echo the opinion 
 of the agency. She doubted if they would render 
 any aid in the search; if all the power of the 
 Forum could prod them to action. 
 
 The scandal would be enough to wreck the cam- 
 paign. Three words uttered in public once de- 
 feated a candidate for president of the United 
 States. She was a marked figure. She stood in 
 a peculiar way for the moral issues of the cam- 
 paign. Let even a hint be given to the public 
 that her family was the sort of one from which 
 a daughter could run away with a married man, 
 and it was enough to turn any narrow margin of 
 victory which the Citizens Party might have 
 against it. 
 
 Billy was not balancing the campaign against 
 Ethel. She was ready to sacrifice the campaign 
 to save Ethel. The campaign could be fought 
 in other years. The public weal might demand 
 her toil and services, but not the sacrifice of her 
 sister. But she was trying to balance the virtues 
 and evils of publicity. Had she any right to re- 
 fuse to offer a reward and to let the story go to 
 the newspapers, in view of the possibility that 
 these two acts might bring Information of her 
 sister? 
 
 Had she, on the other hand, any right to deal 
 Ethel, who might return at any moment, such a 
 moral and social blow as this publicity would be ? 
 
28o CRAYON CLUE 
 
 Had she any right to sacrifice the campaign, 
 which meant so much to so many people, for an 
 entirely uncertain and unknown good to her 
 sister? 
 
 These questions pounded upon her brain with 
 steady reiteration. And accompanying them was 
 the desire to go and throw herself at the feet of 
 Dreiser and ask him to name the sacrifice he 
 wanted of her and give her back her sister. But 
 reason itself prevented her doing this. Even if 
 she were able to break through that indulgent 
 smile with which he would regard her; even if 
 she were able to find a heart in him and touch 
 the sympathies of that heart, Dreiser could not 
 admit this thing. No man could confess such an 
 abduction. He would put his own head in the 
 noose. 
 
 There was nothing to do but wait, and die a 
 thousand deaths in waiting. Those days and 
 nights put nails in Billy's coffin. Never again did 
 she show that unconsciousness of fear and of 
 nerves which marks the child. 
 
 It was on the morning of the fourth day after 
 EthePs disappearance that she held this confer- 
 ence at the agency. Upon her return to the house 
 she had asked Conover to leave her, telling him 
 that she must think the matter over alone and 
 try to decide upon some course of action, and 
 that they would meet later and come to some deci- 
 sion. When she went in she was surprised to 
 
BILLY SEES TROUBLE 28 1 
 
 find the apartment empty. Edith was going to 
 her office every day, and it was understood that 
 someone should remain in the flat at all times. 
 
 Billy found a note from her mother, saying 
 that she had received a note from the detective 
 who had been doing the active work on the case, 
 telling her that a young woman answering Ethel's 
 description had been knocked down by a truck on 
 the street that morning, and taken into a small 
 private hospital in a distant part of the city. The 
 note had come by special messenger, and she had 
 left immediately to go to the hospital. She did 
 not much believe that the girl could be Ethel, 
 but she could not refrain from going. 
 
 Billy had hardly finished reading this when the 
 telephone bell rang insistently. She hastened to 
 the phone, placed the receiver to her ear, and 
 heard Central say, "Oh, here they are; here's 
 your party." Then came a man's voice, unfa- 
 miliar to her. 
 
 "Is this Miss Pennington?" it said. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Are you alone, Miss Pennington?" 
 
 "Yes, what is it?" 
 
 There was an instant's silence and then floating 
 over the wire, uncanny, appalling almost, came 
 Ethel's voice. 
 
 "Billy, Billy," it said, faint and appealing. 
 
 "Oh my soul, Ethel!" cried Billy. 
 
 Another delay, then the man's voice again. 
 
282 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 "Do you want to see your sister, Miss Penning- 
 ton?" 
 
 "Good heavens, yes,'* sobbed Billy, "put her 
 on the phone again." 
 
 "Never mind the phone," said the voice, "do 
 you want to see your sister?" 
 
 "Of course I do." 
 
 "Well, you can see her if you do exactly as I 
 say." 
 
 "What shall I do?" 
 
 "You are to come to the address I give you 
 immediately. You are to come in the street car, 
 not an automobile. If you wait, or bring anyone 
 with you, you won't see her. If you have anyone 
 follow you, you won't see her again, and she shall 
 be made to suffer for it. Do you understand?" 
 
 "Yes, yes, where shall I go?" 
 
 "Will you do exactly as I say?" 
 
 "Yes, exactly." 
 
 "Very well. If you don't you won't see your 
 sister, and you won't hear her voice again for 
 quite a while. Come to 355 Cantnor street, third 
 floor back. Repeat that." 
 
 "Three fifty-five Cantnor street, third floor 
 back," repeated Billy, and instantly the connec- 
 tion was cut off. 
 
 With fingers that trembled so much that she 
 could hardly hold the pencil she scratched off a 
 brief line to her mother giving a pacifying excuse 
 for her absence. Then she wrote a note to Con- 
 
BILLY SEES TROUBLE 283 
 
 over, telling him where she had gone and why. 
 This she slipped in the letter box at the door as 
 she went down. She reckoned that Conover 
 would not receive it for several hours, in which 
 case she would either have returned or would 
 need his assistance. Conover had brought her a 
 small pistol two days before, and told her that 
 he wished she would carry it when she went out 
 alone ; and this she put in the inner pocket of her 
 winter jacket. 
 
 She did not know where the address was, and 
 had to inquire of the conductors. One gave her 
 a wrong direction which wasted precious time. 
 Every stop of the car, every little delaying inci- 
 dent of street traffic almost made her shriek aloud. 
 Finally she gripped herself and by sheer will 
 power quieted the mad impatience which seemed 
 to be wrecking her sanity. 
 
 The quest took her into an old and dirty part 
 of the city, and Cantnor street was a short thor- 
 oughfare, only a few blocks in extent, several 
 blocks from any street car line. She found the 
 number at last and surveyed the house with sink- 
 ing heart. Had they indeed brought Ethel here? 
 It was an old and miserable wooden tenement, a 
 private dwelling house In the early days of the 
 city. Rags were stuffed in broken windows, dirt 
 caked the bare floor of the hall and the broken 
 stairs. As she passed up the latter she saw that 
 it was one of the sweatshop tenements. She met 
 
284 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 a man coming down with a huge pile of men's 
 coats upon his head. Through an open door she 
 saw a room packed full of workers, children of 
 all sizes among them, bent over woollen gar- 
 ments of men and boys, some of them destined 
 for the smartest shops in the city. 
 
 The people did not even look up as she passed. 
 The man had barely glanced at her. They were 
 too busy, or too sodden, to feel curiosity. It was 
 all foreign of the deepest dye. She knew by the 
 looks of the people that not one of them could 
 speak English, probably not even the children. 
 They were fresh from the steerage, put to work 
 by their fellow countrymen who had been a little 
 longer in the country; dumb driven cattle. 
 
 The third floor hall was without a window and 
 almost perfectly dark. She groped to the rear 
 end and knocked at the door. There was no re- 
 sponse. She waited, then tried the handle. It 
 turned and she entered. It was a small hall bed- 
 room, a mere sleeping den. Two mattresses 
 nearly covered the floor. They had no sheets, but 
 were tumbled with a frowsy heap of blankets. 
 Men s garments hung from nails in the wall, and 
 there were two chairs. Billy sat down and waited. 
 
 No one came. After a while she heard some 
 one come out of the front room on that floor. She 
 went to the door and stood looking out. The 
 light from the window behind her showed her a 
 
BILLY SEES TROUBLE 285 
 
 little dark foreign man, bow-legged and so small 
 and Ill-shaped as to be almost deformed. 
 
 "Who lives in this room?" she asked. 
 
 He looked at her indifferently, made some re- 
 ply in an unintelligible language, and went on 
 down the stairs. She went back and waited. 
 After at least twenty minutes she heard a step on 
 the stairs. She felt instinctively that it was the 
 man she was waiting for. It was the step of a 
 man of higher grade, more power, than those she 
 had seen in the building. 
 
 He came in, a youngish man, handsome in his 
 way, of the same race as the others she had seen 
 in the building, but Americanized. His voice 
 when he spoke betrayed no accent, but an inde- 
 finable forelgnness of articulation, inherent in the 
 vocal organs, and not to be eliminated in one gen- 
 eration. He was well dressed, and as Billy 
 looked at him she was afraid of him. Plenty of 
 us have a beast lurking down in the heart; tiger, 
 ape or snake, or just plain pig. But as long as 
 we do decent things to make a living our occu- 
 pation reacts upon us; we are ashamed of the 
 beast, and keep him down, out of sight anyway. 
 But when a human being gets his living in the 
 way of the beast, by preying on those around him, 
 the creature very soon rises out of his heart and 
 takes possession of his face in a way quite appall- 
 ing. Billy might have caught fleeting glimpses 
 of such faces, passing her on the street; but she 
 
286 CRAYON CLUB 
 
 had never sat down opposite such a one before 
 and studied it, knowing she must do business with 
 its owner. 
 
 He stood in the door and smiled at her. 
 
 "I hope you made yourself comfortable, Miss 
 Pennington,'' he said; **I put some chairs in when 
 I knew you were coming.'* 
 
 "Where is my sister?" said Billy. 
 
 "Right to the point, I see," he laughed; "your 
 sister is a long way from here, in a very different 
 sort of place. I am making her quite comforta- 
 ble, believe me." 
 
 There was a hideous smirk upon his face. 
 Billy's face blanched. His keen eyes saw it, and 
 he smiled more broadly. 
 
 "Your sister has been very happy with me. 
 Miss Pennington," he said; "this will show you." 
 
 He drew from his coat pocket a photograph 
 and handed it to her. It was a cabinet picture of 
 Ethel and himself. He was in his shirt sleeves, 
 and had his arm around Ethel, and was broadly 
 smiling in the picture. On the face of the woman 
 in the picture was a frozen look, but it was un- 
 mistakably Ethel. She was in a loose negligee, 
 thrown carelessly open at the throat. 
 
 Billy sat staring at the thing as if it were a 
 snake. 
 
 "Miss Ethel came to me of her own accord," 
 went on the smooth voice. "See, this is her letter 
 about it." 
 
BILLY SEES TROUBLE 287 
 
 He did not let her touch the letter, but held 
 it up for her to see. It was unmistakably in 
 EtheFs writing, a short note on one page in 
 Ethel's firm clerkly hand. It was dated the day 
 before her disappearance. 
 
 "My dear Isadore," it ran, "I shall come to 
 you tomorrow night, as we planned. I shall tell 
 them I am going to Billy's meeting. Meet me as 
 arranged. Your own Ethel." 
 
 "Now look at this," said he. 
 
 "He showed her other letters from Ethel to 
 himself, dated on various days previous to the 
 other; fervid love notes, signed with Ethel's full 
 name ; unmistakably her signature. 
 
 "How did you get these things?" said Billy. 
 
 "Why, as you see yourself, Miss Ethel wrote 
 them to me," said the man smilingly. 
 
 "She never did," said Billy; "they are forged." 
 
 "And the picture? Is that forged?" said the 
 oily voice. 
 
 "And how do you think," he went on, "forged 
 or not forged, that they would look in the pa- 
 pers? Photographs of the letters, say, and the 
 picture?" 
 
 Billy looked at the photograph again, and saw 
 the dreadful ingenuity of it. It was suggestive, 
 hideously suggestive, but it was not unprintable. 
 There was nothing unprintable in the letters — nay 
 the papers would gobble them up. 
 
 "You have kept this story out of the news- 
 
288 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 papers very nicely, Miss Pennington," said the 
 soft voice. "That may tell against you later. 
 Honest people with nothing to conceal go to the 
 police when a member of the family disappears. 
 We could have given the story to the press any 
 time during the last three days, with the picture 
 and the letters. How do you think they would 
 like it? The sensational disappearance of the 
 sister of the brilliant young woman orator of the 
 campaign, Its hushing up by the family, her final 
 discovery In my humble home. I assure you I 
 shan't mind the publicity. It's rather compli- 
 mentary to me than otherwise." 
 
 "What do you want?" said Billy; "why have 
 you brought me here?" 
 
 "We want those papers you stole. Miss Pen- 
 nington ; that receipted bill, those letters. Can we 
 have them?" 
 
 "Why, of course," said Billy. 
 
 "Good; then you must leave Bartown and stay 
 away till after the campaign Is over. Perhaps 
 we shall keep you away permanently, but we'll 
 leave that for the future." 
 
 "And you'll let Ethel come back If I do?" 
 
 "Why, your sister Is at perfect liberty to re- 
 turn to you any moment," said the man; "she 
 came to me of her own accord." 
 
 Billy rose. 
 
 "Let us talk sense," said she angrily; "there Is 
 no use in trying to do business unless we speak 
 
BILLY SEES TROUBLE 289 
 
 the truth to each other. If you do not talk the 
 truth to me I will go and throw up the whole busi- 
 ness and let you do the worst." 
 
 The man did not stir. 
 
 **Go," said he simply. 
 
 Billy stood a long miijute. Then she sat down. 
 
 "Ah, I thought so," said the man smilingly. 
 "We will talk truth, as you say. Your sister came 
 to me of her own free will, and is living with me 
 willingly. You saw how she assisted me to get 
 you here this morning. This fortunate circum- 
 stance has given us a grip on you which we pro- 
 pose to use. You cannot get your sister at pres- 
 ent, because I would not drive away a beautiful 
 young lady who seems to like to stay with me. 
 This, however, need never become public. You 
 can merely tell your friends that Ethel has gone 
 away somewhere, for her health, say, or on a 
 visit. If you do exactly as I tell you, nothing 
 about her will ever become public. But if you 
 disobey in any way, I shall publish the facts, with 
 the picture and the photographed letters. You 
 may deny and bring suit and endeavor to put me 
 in jail — ^but the story will have been published. 
 And let me assure you I have witnesses, excellent 
 witnesses. And let me assure you also that there 
 is nothing in the world you can do to me. Un- 
 fortunately I am a married man, so I couldn't 
 marry your little sister. But there is no suit for 
 abduction in the case of a woman 24 years old 
 
290 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 who can be proved to have come willingly; and I 
 haven't committed bigamy." 
 
 "Then, if Ethel will not come home, will you 
 let me see her?" said Billy. 
 
 "Any time that she likes," said the man mock- 
 ingly, "but unfortunately she does not seem to 
 wish to see any of her family at the present time. 
 Perhaps this little feeling may wear off later." 
 
 "Then as I understand it," said Billy, "you 
 will not let Ethel come home or let me see her. 
 I am to give up the letters and go away simply 
 on your promise that the letters will not be pub- 
 lished." 
 
 The man raised his hands in admiration. 
 
 "Only a schoolma'am could have stated it so 
 precisely," said he. 
 
 "But how do I know that you will keep your 
 word?" 
 
 "You don't." He smiled with relish. 
 
 "However," he continued, "you have this se- 
 curity. Our hold on you is your fear of publica- 
 tion. The minute we publish you will set to work 
 to clear your sister's name. You are a fighter, 
 and you have friends. I admit that you might 
 make things disagreeable for me, and that publi- 
 cation would bring you flying back here to start 
 the war. So you may be perfectly certain that 
 we will not publish till the campaign is over, any- 
 way. After that" — he spoke negligently — "I 
 shouldn't wonder if I'd be tired of your sister by 
 
BILLY SEES TROUBLE 29 1 
 
 that time and advise her to go back home even 
 if she didn't want to." 
 
 "How dare you people," said Billy, staring at 
 him, "how dare Dreiser give it away to me in 
 this way that he abducted my sister?" 
 
 The man shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 "I don't know anything about Dreiser," said 
 he; "I dare do anything because I have the let- 
 ters and the picture — and the girl. And let me 
 tell you, any insolence on your part will be taken 
 out on Ethel. I'll make her suffer for any indis- 
 cretion of yours." 
 
 The tiger looked out of his eyes. "Please 
 don't," said Billy brokenly; "poor Ethel. She 
 has never hurt anybody. Oh, why didn't you take 
 me instead of her?" 
 
 The man shook his head. 
 
 "We consid " he began, then thought bet- 
 ter of it. 
 
 "Little girls mustn't meddle with affairs that 
 don't belong to them," said he; "they must learn 
 to attend to their knitting and their school-teach- 
 ing. We give you till noon tomorrow to get those 
 letters and turn them over and get out of town. 
 We give you that much time because we know the 
 letters are in some man's safety deposit box, and 
 we know you have to await the owner's con- 
 venience to get into such a box, and the afternoon 
 is well along now. You are not to speak at any 
 meeting tonight, or to do any further campaign 
 
292 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 work, either here or after you leave town. Other- 
 wise we leave you perfectly free to go out of here 
 and inform anyone you like. The minute you or 
 one of your friends makes a move in this thing, 
 the story goes to the papers. The material is all 
 in safe hands, ready to be given to the papers the 
 minute you peep. 
 
 "I think our business is finished," said he, 
 rising; "you don't need any name. Instruct him 
 to deliver them to the man he will find in this 
 room. You see I trust you thoroughly. You can 
 send along a policeman to arrest me for black- 
 mail if you like." 
 
 He laughed, and laughing opened the door and 
 let her out. 
 
 "Afraid your name will be Dennis with the 
 Bartown Teachers' Association and the rest of 
 the reformers when you sneak out of the cam- 
 paign in this way," was his parting shot; "afraid 
 it will be suggested that you have been bought 
 off." 
 
 Billy went away quite calm and collected. She 
 found a pay station first of all, and called up her 
 mother and reassured her. Mrs. Pennington 
 was voluble over the phone to the effect that the 
 letter which had taken her out that morning had 
 been a fake; no such girl had been found; the 
 detective had written no such letter. 
 
 Billy listened quietly. 
 
BILLY SEES TROUBLE 293 
 
 "Yes, mother, we'll talk that over when I reach 
 home," said she. 
 
 She called up the man who had the letters In 
 his deposit box, and found that he had already 
 left his office. She called up his home and found 
 that he was not there, but received the Informa- 
 tion that he commonly stopped at his club on his 
 way uptown after he left his office. She called 
 up the club, caught him, and made an appoint- 
 ment for the next morning to get the letters. 
 
 Then she tried to get Conover, but failed to 
 find him anywhere. To his stenographer she dic- 
 tated a message to be left upon his desk. Then 
 she went home and began to pack her trunk. 
 
 She was calm and collected because she was 
 stunned with the magnitude of the blow, and be- 
 cause she could see nothing to do. She saw black 
 ruin ahead for both herself and Ethel. She saw 
 her position with the Teachers' Association, a 
 position in which years of useful and congenial 
 work stretched before her, taken from her. She 
 saw herself queered with the teachers and the 
 whole body of people interested in the campaign 
 by her sudden desertion, of which she could offer 
 no explanation. She saw her lips sealed, for fear 
 of involving Ethel. She saw herself unable to 
 move for Ethel's rescue, because of the story. 
 She saw with unerring vision Ethel's life black- 
 ened, smirched, stained, disgraced forever, were 
 this thing published. In old age, when she was a 
 
294 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 gray-haired, tottering woman, some tongue would 
 wag to tell it. Even if the letters and the pic- 
 tures were explained, as Billy knew they could be; 
 even if the man were jailed for blackmail, even 
 if the whole foul conspiracy were unravelled, car- 
 rying Dreiser and his gang to ruin, nothing could 
 kill the fact — once made known — that Ethel will- 
 ingly or unwillingly had been with this man for 
 days. That was the one thing that would first be 
 made known, and that could not be denied. Not 
 for the letters alone, not merely to take her out 
 of the campaign, but for black revenge was the 
 plot concocted. It was not sufficient to punish 
 her alone; Ethel must be punished too. 
 
 To her mother she said: "There's nothing to be 
 done except help me get out of town. I'll go to 
 Aunt Myrtle's till the campaign is over. Then 
 we'll see whether they give her up, and what is to 
 be done." 
 
 Early in the evening Conover came rushing up. 
 
 ''I found your letter and your message saying 
 you had gotten home on my desk when I got down 
 to the office," he said breathlessly. "Oh, Billy, 
 Billy, what made you go alone? What hap- 
 pened?" 
 
 While she was speaking to him the McPikes 
 came in. Billy had been obliged to telephone 
 Sara to come because it was necessary to send 
 some message and explanation to the Teachers' 
 
BILLY SEES TROUBLE 295 
 
 Association. She told the story to all of them 
 together. 
 
 They took it according to their various tem- 
 peraments; Sara with a rain of silent tears pour- 
 ing down her face, Denny with furious and ex- 
 plosive anger, Conover tramping, tramping up 
 and down the room, with the swollen vein stand- 
 ing out across his forehead, as when he had told 
 her his story in the schoolroom. To all their sug- 
 gestions Billy replied: 
 
 "If you can devise any way to beat these peo- 
 ple, all right. I'm out of it. I have to go away. 
 I have to leave it in your hands. It's easy enough 
 to go to that place and arrest that man tomorrow, 
 or the man he sends to receive the package. You 
 can arrest him for blackmail, but then it all comes 
 out. You don't help Ethel, you ruin her for life. 
 You don't help me. You don't help the cam- 
 paign. If we keep quiet and I go away the cam- 
 paign can go on, and perhaps win. That's the 
 only way we can get back at Dreiser. We might 
 involve him in this blackmail business and punish 
 him, but it would punish me and Ethel worse." 
 
 And no one of them could get past that point. 
 
 Conover wanted to take his lawyer and Bram's 
 agency into consultation. 
 
 *Tou can do it if you think best," said Billy, 
 "but not till I get out of town. I'm going to give 
 back those letters and leave. I'm not going to 
 have that story come out if I can help it. If you 
 
296 CRAYON CLUB 
 
 want to work on the thing quietly — ^it would be 
 very good of you" — her voice broke. 
 
 "Oh, Billy, my God— Billy,*' said Conoven 
 Denny put his hand over his face. 
 
 The telephone rang and Conover rose. 
 
 ^That's probably for me," said he; "I left 
 word where they could get me." 
 
 "Hello," said he. 
 
 In an instant he turned with an astonished look 
 upon his face. 
 
 "That's funny," said he; "some one said *you 
 stay where you are till I get there,' and then rang 
 off." 
 
 "Didn't you know the voice?" 
 
 "No, there was something familiar about it, 
 but I can't place it. Well, I suppose I'd better 
 wait, but not long. It's getting late. I'd like to 
 know who that could have been, and what it could 
 have meant." 
 
 "Was it a man or a woman?" asked McPike. 
 
 "It might have been a woman and it might have 
 been a boy; it wasn't a man." 
 
 Ten minutes later the doorbell rang with in- 
 sistent clamor. Denny, who sat nearest, went to 
 open it. A messenger boy dashed by him without 
 a word, ran on into the sitting room and cried 
 out, "I've found Ethel; I know where she is." 
 
CHAPTER XIV 
 Which Explains About the Messenger Boy 
 
 A FEW hours earlier than the serious confab 
 in which we have described our friends as 
 engaged, immediately after dinner in fact, Mr. 
 Jennifer S. Brackett, sometimes known as Jen- 
 nie, emerged from the small family hotel in the 
 ultra-respectable and semi-fashionable section of 
 the city where he boarded, and sauntered down 
 the street. 
 
 Mr. Brackett had dined well, and walked with 
 the ponderous dignity befitting a fat man well fed, 
 who is also superintendent of the fourth school 
 district of Bartown. 
 
 After he had moseyed along for nearly a block 
 a messenger boy, who had been sitting on the 
 steps of a vacant house opposite, eating peanuts, 
 rose and trailed along after him. 
 
 Mr. Brackett took a street car at the next cor- 
 ner. A number of people took it likewise, and 
 Mr. Brackett was seated in the car and had pulled 
 forth his evening paper before the messenger boy, 
 last of the bunch, mounted the car. The boy 
 stood on the rear platform, his back to the car, 
 297 
 
298 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 smoking a cigarette. He was a scrawny, half- 
 grown lad, possibly 16 or thereabouts, with a 
 wizened blase, sophisticated face, a good deal too 
 old for his size, as is the case with many messen- 
 ger boys. 
 
 The car made its way into a curious part of 
 the city for the respectable Mr. Brackett to visit; 
 a low and crowded part of town, where moving 
 picture shows were running full blast in every 
 block, the brilliant lights of saloons illumined 
 every corner, and the vanguard of the city's night 
 prowlers had begun to surge through the streets. 
 
 Mr. Brackett descended from the car on the 
 near side of the corner. The boy let the car 
 move on to the other side of the crossing, right- 
 fully judging that Brackett's powers of locomo- 
 tion would not remove that gentleman from his 
 sight before he could catch up with him. His 
 eagle eye never left his quarry, and as he swung 
 off he started after the fat man. Brackett's ex- 
 cursion into this unsavory neighborhood was now 
 accounted for, for he made his way to a bril- 
 liantly lighted and fantastically decorated Chinese 
 restaurant. Perfectly respectable people may ven- 
 ture into an unusual quarter to eat at a famous 
 chop suey house. 
 
 Brackett was just disappearing into the restau- 
 rant in company with another man when the mes- 
 senger boy started after him again. He hastened 
 
EXPLAINS ABOUT THE MESSENGER BOY 299 
 
 in and saw his friends just closing the door of one 
 of a row of little private dining rooms. 
 
 He immediately walked into the next one, and 
 of the Chinaman who appeared ordered a bowl 
 of rice and fish. While the waiter was gone he 
 gazed about with great dissatisfaction. Although 
 the partition walls were flimsy he could not hear 
 a single word from the next room. Not a venti- 
 lator, not a keyhole or crack offered friendly as- 
 sistance to nefarious purpose. 
 
 When the Celestial came back with his order 
 he paid for it and handed out an extra quarter. 
 
 ''Don*t let anyone bother me, Charlie," said 
 he in a lordly way; "IVe got a long wait and I'll 
 just sit here and smoke and read me papers, see?" 
 
 The Chinaman grinned. 
 
 "All light," said he; **I keep 'em out." 
 
 The boy placed his chair near the door, which 
 he set slightly ajar, and patiently waited. It was 
 a long wait, and he smoked innumerable cigar- 
 ettes to while away the time. As he smoked he 
 cogitated. 
 
 "Who's this other man and what's he got to do 
 with it? How'll I find out his name?" 
 
 Eventually his patience was rewarded. The 
 two men came out of their room, and stood for 
 a moment in the empty space in front of their 
 door. Both were smiling and excited. 
 
 "Well, what shall we do now?" said Brackett. 
 
300 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 "Oh, let's get Jule and Sam and make a night 
 of it on this," said the stranger. 
 
 "Where's Jule?" asked Brackett. 
 
 "He was up home when I left," said the man. 
 
 "Will it be all right for him to leave?" asked 
 Brackett. 
 
 "Sure," replied the other; "the old lady'U look 
 after her. Come on; you can call him up and 
 I'll go round the corner and see if Sam's on deck. 
 Then we'll go down to the Hungarian and start 
 in." 
 
 They left the place, the boy trailing them. 
 When they separated he let the stranger go and 
 followed Brackett. That gentleman entered a 
 little tobacco store and walked directly to the 
 telephone. The messenger boy stood at the high, 
 glass-covered cigar showcase just behind him 
 when he took off the receiver. A group of men 
 were laughing and talking loudly at the counter, 
 the roar of the city came in from outside. No one 
 else paid any attention to the man at the phone or 
 could hear his low voice. But the boy distin- 
 guished the softly spoken words out of all the 
 uproar because his listening faculty was bent en- 
 tirely upon them. Brackett said: 
 
 "Is Krog home? 
 
 "Is that you, Krog? Becker wants you to meet 
 us at the Hungarian right away. All right." 
 
 The boy, his back to the phone, slid out of the 
 door as Brackett turned to pay his nickel. The 
 
EXPLAINS ABOUT THE MESSENGER BOY 30I 
 
 two friends received no more of the messenger 
 boy's attention that night. Fast as electric cars 
 could speed him he was off uptown. In half an 
 hour he dismounted. The long avenue up which 
 his car had come was full of those little food, no- 
 tion, ice-cream, tobacco and drug stores which 
 minister to the humble needs of a lower middle 
 class neighborhood in a large city. The side street 
 into which he turned was solidly built up with 
 small old brick houses, with the exception of one 
 bright open spot on the lower side where the big 
 door of a garage stood open. It was a quiet 
 block, already almost dark and deserted. 
 
 **Now, let's see," muttered the boy; "52 Quinn, 
 52 Quinn; that's where he lived last fall. This 
 is Quinn, even numbers on upper side of street." 
 
 He walked along peering distractedly for num- 
 bers on the dark doors. Finally he saw a large 
 "60" painted on the glass above the door of a 
 lighted vestibule. From this he counted quickly 
 to 52, and walked boldly up the steps. It was a 
 two-story and ba^iement house, and there was one 
 light in it, in the second-story front room. 
 
 He rang and a woman's voice was soon heard. 
 
 "Who iss it?" she said. 
 
 "Messenger," he said. 
 
 "Ve calk no messenger; who iss the message 
 from and who hass sent it?" said she. 
 
 "Open up, old girl, and I'll tell you all about 
 it," said the boy. 
 
302 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 *'Don' you get too fresh. Tell me who iss de 
 message for?'' 
 
 "All right, deary," said the boy loudly, "if 
 you want me to holler it out to the whole block, 
 Becker's got in trouble and wants Krog." 
 
 The door opened hastily enough at this and 
 the woman stretched out a hand to help the boy 
 in. 
 
 "Hush your noiss," she hissed sibllantly, with 
 an intensely foreign accent, pulling on his sleeve. 
 
 "Vat for you vant to schream like that? Now 
 vat you say? Tell it again." 
 
 "Just leave me sleeve loose, aunty," said the 
 boy coolly, "and don't be so shy and bashful about 
 opening the door when I come around again. I 
 said Becker was in trouble and sent me to get 
 Krog." 
 
 "Vat kind of dope is diss you gif me?" said the 
 old woman. 
 
 "Oh, it's straight dope." 
 
 "But Krog Iss gone alretty. Becker phoned 
 him and he is vent alretty." 
 
 "Well, he didn't get there, and Becker sent me 
 to get him." 
 
 "Den vy don' Becker phone again?" 
 
 "Because he didn't want to phone here. I tell 
 you he's in trouble. He's afraid he's going to be 
 arrested, and he didn't want to let anyone hear 
 him phone to this place. He wants Krog to do 
 something for him. He told me to come here and 
 
EXPLAINS ABOUT THE MESSENGER BOY 303 
 
 just tell you to find Krog and tell him to come to 
 the downtown place. He said Krog would 
 know.'' 
 
 At the mention of arrest the old woman had 
 begun to wring her hands. 
 
 **But I don' know vere iss Julius," she whim- 
 pered. *'He iss gone. It iss more as half an 
 hour he iss gone." 
 
 "Where'dhego?" 
 
 "I don' know. He tell me he go mit Isadore 
 somevere." 
 
 "Well, don't you know some place where you 
 might find him? You'd better phone around and 
 see if you can't find him." 
 
 "Yess, yess," said she, "I know some place vere 
 he might be. I phoned him." 
 
 She started up the stairs, paying no attention 
 to the boy who followed her. 
 
 The boy had been using his eyes every min- 
 ute. Since no one else had appeared he felt quite 
 sure no one else was afoot and about in the house. 
 The hall below was the common little vestibule of 
 a cheap old-fashioned dwelling. The stairs 
 started close by the front door, and he had no 
 doubt that around behind other stairs started be- 
 neath them down to the basement. The two 
 other ordinary first floor rooms of such a house, 
 "front and back parlor," were to the right of the 
 hall, the doors into both standing open. On the 
 second floor were the same little hall, the same 
 
304 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 two rooms. The door into the front one stood 
 open; a gas jet was lit within, he could see the 
 furnishings of a bedroom. But the door of the 
 rear room on the second floor was closed; the 
 only closed door he had seen in the house. 
 
 The old woman made for the telephone, which 
 was on the wall at the head of the stairs, between 
 the doors of the two rooms. She gave a number 
 and stood with the receiver at her ear, but before 
 she got an answer the boy behind her shouted in 
 a loud, chanting voice, 
 
 "Such disgrace, 
 Shut your face, 
 Don't let out a word." 
 
 She turned angrily to see the boy cutting ab- 
 surd awkward pigeon wings in time to his chant- 
 ing voice. 
 
 "You must be a fool," said she hotly; "how can 
 I telephone mit you yellin' alretty?" 
 
 "Shut yer face," 
 
 yelled the boy. "Can't we have a little fun, old 
 
 girl? 
 
 "Parowax, 
 Break your backs. 
 Gosh, the deep disgrace 
 Not to find 
 Any kind 
 Of grease t' save yer face." 
 
EXPLAINS ABOUT THE MESSENGER BOY 305 
 
 The woman looked at him too much amazed to 
 be angry, and with some fear. 
 
 **Vot foolishness dope is diss? You must be 
 cracy,'* she said with alarm. 
 
 *'No, I ain't bughouse, aunty," said the boy 
 good-naturedly; *'go on with yer telephoning FlI 
 be good now." 
 
 She got her number and talked, and while she 
 was busy at this the boy sidled noiselessly over to 
 the closed door and upon its panel thumped out 
 softly with one knuckle the rhythm of his dog- 
 gerel : 
 
 Thumpy thump, 
 Thumpy thump, 
 Thumpy thumpy thump. 
 
 He stopped and listened intently. A pause, 
 then from the other side, faintly as a mouse nib- 
 bling, came thumpy thump, thumpy thump, 
 thumpy thumpy thump. 
 
 The boy darted away from the door. 
 
 "It iss no use," said the old woman patheti- 
 cally, turning away from the phone, "I cannot find 
 him. Oh, my Izzy, vat is happen to him?" And 
 she wrung her hands again. 
 
 "All right, mother," said the boy, already half 
 way downstairs, "I can't wait any longer. Becker 
 told me to come back if I couldn't find him. So 
 long." 
 
 "Vait, vait," cried the old woman, toddling 
 
306 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 after him, but he was out of the door while she 
 talked on. 
 
 He sped across the street and into the garage. 
 
 "By gum, there's a messenger boy running," 
 grinned one of the men. 
 
 The boy flashed a ten-dollar bill In his hand 
 as he raced across the floor to the small, bril- 
 liantly lighted oflice. 
 
 "Get a car ready for me and give me the use 
 of your phone a minute," he said In a tone that 
 made the man sit up. 
 
 "533 M," said the boy into the phone. A min- 
 ute later he spoke one sentence : 
 
 "You stay there till I get there," and slammed 
 on the receiver. 
 
 "How much to 6^ Torrey street, no return?" 
 he snapped out. 
 
 "Five dollars," said the man. 
 
 The boy slapped down his ten-dollar bill. 
 
 "There's another five in It for you without tak- 
 ing out a car," said he, "and more later If you'll 
 just set a man to watch 52, right across the street, 
 till I get back, and tell me if anyone goes in or 
 out of It." 
 
 "All right, what is it?" said the man eagerly; 
 "divorce case?" 
 
 "Yep," said the boy, "y' got It first crack." 
 
 He leaped Into the car which instantly glided 
 through the door. 
 
 Less than ten minutes later he rang at the Pen- 
 
EXPLAINS ABOUT THE MESSENGER BOY 307 
 
 nington flat, rushed past Denny at the door, burst 
 into the sitting room and cried, "I've found Ethel; 
 I know where she is." 
 
 The crowd gazed upon him stupefied, but Billy 
 suddenly cried, "Why, it's Delia." 
 
 "Yes," said Delia, "don't fuss, never mind my 
 clothes. I've often been out in them. Let me 
 tell my story." 
 
 She told it rapidly. 
 
 "I knew you were all here," said she; "I 
 phoned Conover's office and the McPikes house 
 earlier in the evening. So I just called up to see 
 if you were still here, and by good luck I caught 
 you. I couldn't tell you all this business over the 
 phone. No booths down there anyway, nothing 
 but drug store phones with everybody listening 
 to you. The place is not ten minutes from here 
 by auto. Ethel's there, if you want to go and 
 get her out." 
 
 Conover leaped to his feet. 
 
 "The car's here," said he; "shall we go and 
 do it, Billy?" 
 
 Billy clasped her head with her hands. 
 
 "Wait I Wait I" she cried; "what effect will it 
 have?" 
 
 "The effect will be that you will have her here, 
 and no matter what they do you can swear she's 
 never been out of the house," said Conover ex- 
 citedly. "You can go on and leave town as you 
 planned if you think best, but to have Ethel in 
 
3o8 Crayon clue 
 
 your possession makes it a good deal less danger- 
 ous for her. It takes the sand out of their story 
 if they publish." 
 
 *Tes, yes," said Billy, "that's right. Go and 
 get her, Baring — Denny — go and get her." 
 
 The two men, already in their coats, leaped for 
 the door. 
 
 "Hold on I" said Delia; "wait a minute I" 
 
 "Let's get the bunch," she said, as they stopped 
 and gazed at her. "Let's bag the lot of them. 
 Let's get Dreiser and Brackett to that house to- 
 night and nail them to the cross." 
 
 "How can we get them?" said Conover. 
 
 "I've got something in my head to phone them 
 from that house that'll bring them there sure as 
 taxes, if you're game." 
 
 "Game? Of course I'm game." 
 
 "Then you'll have to get more men," said 
 Delia ; "there are two men attached to that house 
 that we know of, and maybe more, and they may 
 be there when we get back for all we know; and 
 you're planning to call in two more. You two 
 can't handle them. You'd better get some po- 
 lice." 
 
 "No police," said Conover, "no police. The 
 police would arrest us instead of the other fel- 
 lows. Bram's men. I'm going after them now." 
 
 The two men plunged away, but at the door 
 found the messenger boy at their heels. 
 
EXPLAINS ABOUT THE MESSENGER BOY 309 
 
 "Get back, Delia," said Conover, "this Is no 
 woman's job. There may be fighting." 
 
 "Shut your mouth," said Delia coolly. "Where 
 would you be if I hadn't doped this thing out for 
 you? You haven't even got the address of the 
 house. You're a great detective." 
 
 With a helpless gesture of his hand Conover 
 gave way and she went with them. 
 
 His car was at the door, they piled in and tore 
 over to the agency. Conover strode into the 
 office of the man in charge. 
 
 "I've found the place where Ethel Pennington 
 is shut up," said he, "that you fellows have been 
 hunting for days. I want three of your best men, 
 and I want them quick, and with guns and ropes 
 and handcuffs and gags. I want them to go pre- 
 pared to break into a house or to fight or to break 
 the law in any other way that I say. I'll stand 
 whatever consequences arise." 
 
 He was Conover, the millionaire, owner of the 
 biggest paper in Bartown. He got what he 
 wanted. 
 
 The big car with six men and the messenger 
 boy in it tore away toward 52 Quinn; and as it 
 went Conover and Delia planned their raid. They 
 stopped around the corner and Delia sped over to 
 the garage. 
 
 "Anybody been in there?" she said to the pro- 
 prietor. 
 
 "Not a soul," said he. 
 
3IO CRAYON CLUE 
 
 She handed him another ten. 
 
 "All right, call off your man," said she; "don't 
 see anything more, and don't tell anything youVe 
 heard;* 
 
 "Say, can't you put me wise?" said the man, 
 grinning. 
 
 "Naw, if you get too wise you won't get any 
 more of my trade," said Delia. 
 
 She returned to the car and all hands got out 
 except the chauffeur. 
 
 "Keep the car here, Henry," said Conover, 
 "and when you hear me blow three notes on my 
 whistle come a-running." 
 
 They trod silently up the steps and rang again. 
 It was now past midnight, but the light still 
 burned in the room upstairs. 
 
 "That poor woman," muttered Delia, with 
 some slight remorse. 
 
 There was no delay this time. An answering 
 voice, "Who's dere?" came quickly from behind 
 the closed door. 
 
 "Me again, honey," said Delia; "I've got an- 
 other message from Becker." 
 
 The door was opened, instantly Conover 
 stepped in and made a grab for the woman. She 
 eluded him with a loud exclamation, but she did 
 not scream. Instead she turned and flew up the 
 stairs with surprising speed. 
 
 "The phone! the phone I" cried Delia, "she's 
 after the phone." 
 
EXPLAINS ABOUT THE MESSENGER BOY 3II 
 
 Conover bounded after her and caught her just 
 as she had jerked down the receiver. 
 
 "Police!" she had cried just once, when Con- 
 over's arm went around her from behind, his 
 hand pressed over her mouth and he twisted her 
 to one side- and held her squirming, with her head 
 in chancery against his shoulder, while with the 
 other hand he held the receiver to his own ear. 
 
 "What's that?" said Central suspiciously; 
 "some one calling police?" 
 
 "No, no, all a mistake, Central" — Conover's 
 frank, laughing voice went into the mouthpiece 
 reassuringly — "lady here been taking too much 
 mixed ale, that's all. Cook's on the rampage 
 and we had to be a little rough with her, and she 
 thought she'd call the police." 
 
 "Oh, well, be gentle with her," replied the 
 girl, moUIfied. 
 
 "Why, I'm the gentlest pirate that ever cut a 
 throat or scuttled a ship," laughed Conover. 
 
 The girl laughed and rang off. 
 
 Conover turned away with the sweat standing 
 on his forehead. 
 
 "That may bring the police on us yet," said he 
 in a low voice; "here," to two of Bram's men, 
 "gag this woman and tie up her hands. It's the 
 only way to be sure of her. And you, there, 
 search this house to see that there is no one in it- 
 Then guard the hall down below and the base- 
 
312 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 ment, and warn us if you hear anybody coming. 
 Quiet's the word, all hands, and get a move on." 
 
 ^'Ethel's in here," said Denny, his hand on the 
 door of the locked room; ''Ethel, Ethel, do you 
 hear me?" 
 
 "Yes, Denny," came the voice of Ethel faintly. 
 
 "Oh, where are the keys," cried Delia fran- 
 tically, having already searched the old woman, 
 and found neither key nor pocket amid her scanty 
 attire. She flew into the bedroom and pawed 
 frantically over stand and bureau. "Ah I" — a note 
 of triumph as she threw back the pillow and found 
 a key lying under It. 
 
 She thrust it In the lock of the closed door, 
 but It was too large by half. 
 
 "Where's the key of that door," said Conover 
 sternly of the old woman. 
 
 She looked at him with malice in her black 
 eyes. He raised his revolver, but she gazed at 
 it unafraid. She knew he would not shoot. 
 
 "Where's the key?" snarled Delia, seizing her 
 by the shoulder; "if you don't tell we'll have Isa- 
 dore and Julius both sent to states prison." 
 
 The woman blanched, and lifting her manacled 
 hands slightly pointed to the floor in front of the 
 door. With a cry of triumph Delia went upon 
 her knees, felt under the edge of the carpet and 
 drew forth the key. An instant later the door 
 was open and Denny sprang through and caught 
 
EXPLAINS ABOUT THE MESSENGER BOY 313 
 
 Ethel Pennington In his arms as, ghastly white 
 and haggard, she swayed towards them. 
 
 ''She's fainted," said Denny; "don't wake her. 
 Take her home as she is. Quick now, before any- 
 one comes back. Give me your coat, Conover; 
 it's warmer than mine." 
 
 Conover stripped off his great astrachan-faced 
 automobile coat, and they wrapped her in it. She 
 had on only a hideous kimono with great staring 
 flowers all over it, over her nightgown, and there 
 were no other clothes in the room. Her feet were 
 bare, and there were no shoes or stockings to be 
 found. 
 
 "Her clothes must be somewhere in this 
 house," said McPike between his teeth; "we must 
 find every one of them before we leave." 
 
 Denny carried her down himself, and they 
 tucked her in among the robes with Delia's arms 
 around her, and one of the Bram men in the car 
 for protection. 
 
 "You stay there," said Conover to this man; 
 "you protect that flat tonight. Delia, you come 
 back with the car; we may need you.'* 
 
 "Get Dreiser first," said Delia in a low voice; 
 "you probably can't find the others anyway, but 
 watch out, they may be in any minute." 
 
 The car glided away, and Conover sprang back 
 into the house and up to the phone. 
 
 "Ethel's on her way home with Delia," he said 
 into Billy's listening car. 
 
314 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 He drew a long breath as he turned away from 
 the instrument. 
 
 **Well, that much is accomplished," said he. 
 
 "Pretty quick work," said Denny. 
 
 Conover touched him lightly on the shoulder. 
 
 ''I was sorry not to send you home with Ethel, 
 Mac," he said; "I guess you'd have liked to go 
 with her. But I needed you here for the second 
 part of the show." 
 
 "That's all right," said Denny, "I want to be 
 here when Dreiser comes." 
 
 He was evidently laboring under strong ex- 
 citement. 
 
 "Conover" — he ripped out a smothered oath — 
 "it seems to me there's got to be killing done in 
 this thing; it seems to me there's got to be." 
 
 "Maybe, maybe," said Conover, "but not to- 
 night. Some other time, perhaps, when it can't 
 be connected with the Penningtons. There's only 
 one thing on God's earth we can do for those girls 
 now, and that is to close these fellows' mouths." 
 
 "Yes, that's right," said Denny. 
 
 "Now for the other birds," said Conover. 
 
 He rang up and after a short wait began to talk 
 low and swiftly into the phone. 
 
 "Jack," said he, "I want the use of your name 
 for a short time this evening. No, I won't do 
 anything to disgrace it. All about it is this. A 
 few minutes from now somebody may ring you up 
 and ask if you are in. I don't want you to an- 
 
EXPLAINS ABOUT THE MESSENGER BOY 315 
 
 swer the phone. I want you to have somebody 
 else answer it, and say that you are gone to 52 
 Quinn street on a call. Get that? And say, have 
 them say that you've been gone some time. I may 
 want to use your name a few minutes in calling 
 somebody up over the phone. Is that all right? 
 Nothing may come of it. I may not have to use 
 your name, and very likely nobody will call you 
 up. But I want to impersonate an M. D. and 
 in case there is question I want to have a doctor's 
 name to use. What? No, I can't explain now, 
 take too long. But I'll explain everything later, 
 and I give you my word it won't let you in for 
 anything disagreeable. Is it a go? Thanks, old 
 man; call on me when you need a favor; so long." 
 
 He rang off and consulted the little memoran- 
 dum book in which he had placed the telephone 
 numbers for Dreiser and Brackett given him by 
 Delia. He rang up the first, but there was a con- 
 siderable wait. 
 
 '*Gee, I hope he isn't out anywhere," he said 
 to Denny; ''that'll queer the whole thing." 
 
 When Dreiser's voice finally came over the 
 phone it was a little peevish. 
 
 "What's the matter?" it said; "I was in bed." 
 
 "Ah, is that Mr. Dreiser?" said Conover in 
 a smooth suave tone; "sorry to wake you up, Mr. 
 Dreiser, but it seemed necessary. Ah, Mr. Drei- 
 ser, I am a physician. This is 52 Quinn street I 
 am speaking from. Your caretaker here called 
 
3l6 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 me in. At least she wanted a doctor and went 
 to a drug store and they called me. The young 
 lady here is very 111, In convulsions. It looks to 
 me as if she had been poisoned. Of course that's 
 a very serious matter and I shall have to report 
 it whether she lives or dies. If she dies, and It 
 looks to me as if she were going to, there will 
 have to be an Inquest. Mr. Becker and Mr. 
 Krog both seem to be away. There's no one here 
 but the old woman. She tells me you have an 
 Interest in the young lady, you and a Mr. 
 Brackett. Will you come down? Or shall I call 
 up Mr. Brackett?" 
 
 There was a long pause. Then Dreiser's voice, 
 cool and unruffled, replied, "I'll come down. 
 Never mind Brackett. I'll get him." 
 
 "Ah, thank you. That relieves me of respon- 
 sibility. And when may I expect you?" 
 
 "I'll come down directly. Don't call up any- 
 body else. Just let things rest till I get there. 
 Look after the girl. Do everything you can for 
 her. Don't let her die. Your bill will be paid 
 all right." 
 
 "Certainly, Mr. Dreiser, certainly," said Con- 
 over, and turned away with face beaming. 
 
 "It works, Mac; It works," he whispered. 
 
 He had the prisoner put out of sight. The 
 lower floor was left in darkness except for one 
 dim jet In the hall. One of the detectives was left 
 concealed below, and the other three men present 
 
EXPLAINS ABOUT THE MESSENGER BOY 317 
 
 betook themselves to the room In which Ethel 
 had been imprisoned. This room had solid 
 wooden blinds at the windows, which were tightly 
 closed and padlocked. Small semicircular holes 
 at the tops could be made to admit a little light 
 and air. The room had but one door, into the 
 hall. This they left wide open, and lit the gas 
 full blaze. 
 
 In a few minutes a taxicab dashed up to the 
 door. A man leaped from it, ran up the steps 
 and entered the hall. Seeing all dark below and 
 the light streaming from the door upstairs, he 
 mounted the stairs with long, swift steps and 
 strode Into the lighted room. The minute he 
 entered one of the detectives, who stood behind 
 the door, stepped In front of It and stood with 
 his revolver In his hand. 
 
 Dreiser stood perfectly still, staring at the two 
 pistols pointed at him. 
 
 "What does this mean, Mr. Conover?" said 
 he, with entire self-possession. 
 
 "It means weVe got you, Dreiser, and got you 
 good," said Conover. 
 
 "How have you got me?" asked Dreiser 
 calmly. 
 
 "WeVe got you on abduction and blackmail, 
 you damned scoundrel," said Conover. "WeVe 
 got the girl, and weVe got her story. WeVe got 
 your man Becker and your man Krog and your 
 old hag tied up downstairs. I telephoned you to 
 
3l8 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 come down here and look after the girl, and you 
 came. These gentlemen and another downstairs 
 heard me do It. WeVe caught you with the 
 goods on, Dreiser." 
 
 Dreiser stood perfectly silent, and one could 
 see from his face how hard his mind was work- 
 ing. 
 
 "The others may be along," said Denny In an 
 undertone. 
 
 "Did you telephone for Brackett, Dreiser?" 
 asked Conover. 
 
 Dreiser stared at him without speaking. 
 
 Conover walked up to him. 
 
 "Answer me when I speak to you," said he in 
 a low voice. 
 
 "Yes," said Dreiser, "but he was not at home." 
 
 "Sit down in that chair," said Conover, point- 
 ing to one at the small table; and when the su- 
 perintendent had obeyed stood over him with a 
 revolver. 
 
 "Go through him, Mac," said he. 
 
 Denny searched the prisoner, and drew a pis- 
 tol from his overcoat pocket. 
 
 "Ah," said Conover; "now just tie his ankles 
 with that rope." 
 
 "Mr. Conover," said Dreiser, "this Is unneces- 
 sary and absurd. I protest against this melo- 
 drama." 
 
 "I don't trust men that steal girls," said Con- 
 
EXPLAINS ABOUT THE MESSENGER BOY 319 
 
 over; "your dignity's all thrown away, Dreiser. 
 Keep that to frighten poor schoolma'ams with." 
 
 "Mr. McPike/' said Dreiser, "you are hurting 
 me. 
 
 "I mean to," said Denny grimly. 
 
 Conover took from his pocket a fountain pen 
 and shook down the ink. 
 
 "Pity we haven't got some of the chalk in the 
 Bartown schools to write this with," he grinned. 
 
 He took a flat notebook from his pocket and 
 tore out several sheets. 
 
 "Now," said he, "Brother Dreiser, you may 
 have the police department behind you, but you 
 haven't got the prosecuting attorney's office, I'll 
 go bail on that. The prosecuting attorney's an 
 honest man and a good friend of mine. It would 
 just tickle him foolish to make a celebrated case 
 of this and send two beauties like you and 
 Brackett to the state penitentiary, with the Bar- 
 town Forum to tell what a great man he was all 
 the time he was doing it. Now If you want me 
 to lay the information I have before him and 
 start proceedings against you Immediately, why 
 all right. If you don't care to have that done, 
 you take that pen and write what I tell you, 
 Dreiser." 
 
 Dreiser took up the pen. 
 
 "I, Edmund H. Dreiser," began Conover, "do 
 hereby confess that I conspired with one Isadore 
 Becker to abduct Miss Ethel Pennington " 
 
320 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 Dreiser laid down the pen. 
 
 "You needn't write it if you don't want to," 
 said Conover; "in that case I'll start my suit 
 against you tomorrow. If you write it, I won't 
 start anything. I'll just hold that confession as 
 a protection against any future deviltry of yours." 
 
 Dreiser moistened his dry lips again and yet 
 again. He cleared his throat and finally spoke, 
 huskily and with difficulty. 
 
 "What security," said he, "have I that you 
 would not use any alleged confession which you 
 may force out of me?" 
 
 "The security," said Conover promptly, "that 
 we don't wish to make the abduction of Miss 
 Pennington public. If you'll lay down and hold 
 your hand we won't start anything against you. 
 That is, anything personal. The campaign will 
 go on, on its merits. But if you try any more of 
 your games against those girls, or wag your 
 tongue against them in any way, you or your tools, 
 or attempt any reprisal for our presence in this 
 house or for anything we have done here tonight, 
 we'll use your 'alleged' confession and use it good 
 and hard." 
 
 "You know of course," said Dreiser, "that a 
 confession obtained under compulsion is void." 
 
 "Under fear of violence maybe," said Con- 
 over, "but nobody's threatening to shoot you, 
 Dreiser. What I'm threatening is to start crimi- 
 nal proceedings against you. If you haven't any 
 
EXPLAINS ABOUT THE MESSENGER BOY 32 1 
 
 fear of those proceedings go on and defy me, as 
 any honest man would do.'' 
 
 Dreiser took up the pen and wrote, Conover 
 dictating. 
 
 I, Edmund H. Dreiser, do hereby confess that I con- 
 spired with one Isadore Becker to abduct Miss Ethel 
 Pennington. 
 
 I confess that she was confined by my orders in the 
 house at 52 Quinn street occupied by Julius Krog, an 
 employe of my own in the office of superintendent of the 
 Bartown schools, and by his half brother, Isadore Becker, 
 and by his mother, Mrs. Krog. 
 
 I confess that the object of this abduction was to secure 
 certain letters and other documents which show me to 
 have had questionable financial relations with the Colum- 
 bian Book Co. and the Northwestern School Supply Co. 
 in the conduct of the Bartown schools, said documents 
 being now in the possession of Miss Wilhelmina Pen- 
 nington. 
 
 I confess that a further purpose of the abduction was 
 to compel Miss Wilhelmina Pennington to withdraw 
 from the municipal campaign now in progress in the city 
 of Bartown which threatens my position as superintend- 
 ent; and further to punish Miss Pennington for having 
 inspired and instigated the movement against the present 
 management of the schools. 
 
 I confess that I conspired with Isadore Becker to 
 blackmail Miss Wilhelmina Pennington by forcing her 
 to give up the documents herein described, and to leave 
 the city of Bartown and withdraw from said campaign, 
 through fears of injuries, mental, moral and physical, 
 threatened to be inflicted on her sister, Ethel Pennington. 
 
 (Signed) Edmund H. Dreiser, 
 
 Supt. Schools. 
 Bartown, March 12, 19 — . 
 
322 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 Conover read, folded and placed it in his 
 pocketbook. 
 
 "All right, Mr. Dreiser," said he, smiling and 
 genial, "we'll go now and leave you to untie your 
 ankles and the rest of your conspirators scattered 
 around the house. Then you can call up the po- 
 lice and have us arrested for housebreaking if 
 you like." 
 
 As the three issued from the room a messenger 
 boy rose from a stool placed in the hall just out- 
 side the door and held up a notebook. 
 
 "I've got it all in shorthand," said he owlishly; 
 "I came in just after Dreiser and thought I might 
 as well take it down." 
 
 Conover burst out laughing. 
 
 "Fd like to see anybody get ahead of you," 
 said he; "hear that, Dreiser? We've got this 
 whole interview in shorthand. Come on, boys, 
 time to get a short nap before breakfast." 
 
 "Wait," said McPike. He went into the old 
 woman's room and came out carrying Ethel Pen- 
 nington's coat, hat and dress. 
 
 "Good boy, Mac," said Conover. 
 
 They streamed down the stairs and to their 
 astonishment beheld the prostrate form of a man 
 lying on the floor, the detective who had been left 
 on guard below sitting philosophically beside him 
 in a chair, gun in hand. 
 
 "What's this," exclaimed Conover, bending 
 over the man. 
 
EXPLAINS ABOUT THE MESSENGER BOY 323 
 
 "That's Becker," said Delia. 
 
 *'0h, that's Becker, is it? The gentleman that 
 entertained Billy this afternoon. Where'd you 
 catch him, my friend?" 
 
 "He come a-sailing in here with a latch-key," 
 said the detective hoarsely; "plunged in without 
 any suspicion at all, so I just give him one crack 
 with the butt of my gun and caught 'im as he fell. 
 Didn't make no noise at all." 
 
 "Well, I should say not," said Conover; "you 
 must be an artist at the job." 
 
 "I know him," said the hoarse detective; "he's 
 a slaver; got a dozen girls working for him; pro- 
 tected, he is; pays a regular rake-off to the po- 
 lice." 
 
 "Is he dead?" 
 
 "Him? Oh, no; he'll wake up with a head- 
 ache bimeby." 
 
 "It's a pity," said Conover. 
 
 The streets were dark and silent with the hush 
 that comes before the milkman, as the big car 
 plunged away through the keen cold of the March 
 morning. Conover was in a state of high ex- 
 citement. He took the driver's seat and as he 
 tore away up the avenue at racing speed he let out 
 one yell. 
 
 "Gee, what a night I" he said. "Say, we've got 
 to eat." 
 
 He drove to a high-class all-night restaurant, 
 and ordered a royal gorge for the crowd. Other 
 
324 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 late patrons looked curiously at the messenger 
 boy supping sumptuously with the five men. As 
 for that young person, his somewhat morose and 
 cynical countenance had taken on an almost human 
 expression of excitement and enjoyment 
 
CHAPTER XV 
 Which Sees the End of the Campaign 
 
 BILLY'S last job on that campaign was to or- 
 ganize over three thousand school teachers 
 of Bartown into a campaign committee. They 
 said nothing in their schoolrooms, but after school 
 each day, and all day Saturday and Sunday, they 
 went to the homes of their pupils; and, seizing 
 a hasty meal wherever the dinner hour might 
 find them, canvassed from flat to flat among the 
 tenements until bedtime came. 
 
 The dinner hour and after were indeed the best 
 time for them, for then they caught the men at 
 home. When the people could not speak Eng- 
 lish, the children interpreted, and it was fre- 
 quently an exciting and festive occasion when 
 youngsters brought their own teacher home with 
 them, to see their own father and mother. Bot- 
 tled soda water was sent for, neighbors were 
 often called in, and the teacher expounded her 
 doctrine to a whole roomful, giving them litera- 
 ture to take away with them, and impressing on 
 them the necessity of getting all the men to vote 
 the Citizens' ticket if they wanted good schools in 
 
 32s 
 
326 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 which their children would be educated to be 
 Americans. It was a splendid exercise in democ- 
 racy, for both the teachers and the tenement 
 dwellers, whether the campaign won or not. 
 
 There was scarcely one of the three thousand 
 members of the Teachers' Association who did 
 not take a hand in this, and fully two thousand 
 of them did it regularly. Those two thousand 
 visited not less than five homes each in the tene- 
 ments every night for two weeks before election; 
 one hundred and forty thousand house to house 
 visits in behalf of the Citizens' ticket at the lowest 
 computation. But often a roomful of people 
 were spoken to at a time. 
 
 For this work Billy provided her famous 
 "rainbow flyers." This was a series of dodgers, 
 printed on single sheets of paper of the various 
 colors of the rainbow, each color having its own 
 particular bit of campaign propaganda set forth 
 in short, terse sentences, presenting facts, figures 
 and reasons why people having any interest in the 
 schools should vote the Citizens' ticket, in such 
 form that he who ran might read. These were 
 printed In sixteen different languages besides Eng- 
 lish, particularly in Yiddish and Italian. For the 
 foreign dodgers Billy went to the ofHces of the 
 various foreign papers In the city, both for trans- 
 lation and printing. This interested these papers, 
 and some of them printed the leaflets voluntarily 
 In their papers and gave them favorable editorial 
 
THE END OF THE CAMPAIGN 327 
 
 mention. Others published them as paid matter. 
 Others, it was found, were owned by the other 
 side, and these came out with violent vituperation 
 against the "teacher politicians." 
 
 But this in itself called attention to the rain- 
 bow flyers. These famous little dodgers were 
 distributed by hundreds of thousands during 
 those last two stormy weeks. School children 
 took them home. Teachers left a bunch of them 
 in every street car in which they rode. Foreign 
 workers were employed to list every meeting of 
 any sort, kind or description in the foreign quar- 
 ters, and to distribute at the door flyers in the 
 language of the meeting. Speakers in every 
 language spoken in Bartown were poured into 
 these meetings, and the people got the school is- 
 sue at their clubs, unions, benefit societies, social 
 organizations, and every other sort, kind and 
 description of association in which the hetero- 
 geneous American people foregathers to entertain 
 or instruct itself. And after every speech the 
 little flyers went along to drive the nail home and 
 preserve the recollection. Billy's use of the flyers 
 in this campaign was in fact the origin of the 
 widespread adoption of this form of propaganda 
 literature by the suffragists over the country. 
 
 The sort of house to house canvassing the 
 teachers were doing would not have been strange 
 to English women, but it was new in America, 
 and the teachers began it with fear and trembling. 
 
328 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 But as they gained confidence they ventured into 
 the little shops and stores, as well as the houses, 
 and talked to the men there and left the dodgers. 
 In the course of this two or three came almost 
 simultaneously to Billy, mourning that they could 
 not go into the saloons for this purpose. 
 
 "It is there the men congregate in the evening," 
 they said; ''those little neighborhood saloons are 
 the local clubs and gathering places for the men; 
 they sit smoking and talking and playing cards 
 there every evening." 
 
 A corps of men was immediately put on to go 
 from one saloon to another every evening, talk- 
 ing for the Citizens' ticket and explaining the 
 school issue. But it was left for Mrs. Livingston 
 to furnish the star feature of the campaign along 
 this line. 
 
 "There is one respectable woman who goes 
 into the saloons of Bartown every evening," said 
 she, "and that's the Salvation Army lassie. They 
 go through the saloons to sell the War Cry, 
 Only those who can carry off a thing like that with 
 dignity are sent, and they are treated with respect 
 and given contributions in the saloons. When- 
 ever they get a chance they say a word to a man 
 for the good of his soul. Let us see what can be 
 done with them." 
 
 She hastened to the head of the Salvation Army 
 "slum sisters" in Bartown, whom she had already 
 enlightened and converted on the school issue. As 
 
THE END OF THE CAMPAIGN 329 
 
 a result all the Army newsglrls were called to- 
 gether and instructed In the school issue by Mrs. 
 Livingston herself, and every one carried the rain- 
 bow flyers along with her War Cry as she went 
 through the saloons and elsewhere. In answer to 
 the astonished queries which this evoked in the 
 saloons, each "lassie" was ready to stop and tell 
 all she knew about it. 
 
 Perhaps the most valuable work on Billy's cam- 
 paign committee was done by Professor Andrews. 
 Many parents who kept their children when 
 young in private schools sent their boys to the 
 Boys' Classical High to prepare for college. 
 The fine, high-stepping youngsters in this school, 
 the pick of the pupils in the whole system, be- 
 came rabid partisans of the Citizens' ticket. Not 
 one word was said on politics during school hours 
 from any teacher's rostrum, and yet the school 
 was alive with the subject. Some hundreds of 
 these boys reported to Billy In the headquarters 
 which had been provided for her by the Citizens' 
 committee, placed themselves under her orders, 
 took out bushels of the flyers for distribution at 
 meetings and from house to house in the best 
 residence districts, and jawed excitedly at home 
 and abroad on school politics. 
 
 Andrews took his daily stint of canvassing 
 along with the other teachers on the committee. 
 The city was full of his "old boys," now in offices 
 of their own, all of them fond of Andrews. He 
 
33^ CRAYON CLUE 
 
 put In all the time he could, calling personally 
 and by telephone on these men to solicit their in- 
 terest for the Citizens' ticket. But he did more 
 than that. Mrs. Andrews gave a series of little 
 dinners to "old boys" and their wives, which 
 were purely school politics dinners. Also, there 
 was an Alumni Association of the Boys' Classical 
 High in town, made up largely of young or young- 
 ish professional men, all old boys of Andrews'. 
 A former alumnus who had acquired some dis- 
 tinction In foreign parts having been booked some 
 time previous for a visit to the city, Andrews now 
 engineered a banquet of the Alumni Association 
 in this man's honor. It was a toast affair, and 
 the professor turned his toast into a campaign 
 speech. It was a characteristic talk, such as 
 every man present remembered to have heard 
 from him more than once at morning exercises, 
 full of dry jokes and personal allusions, which 
 brought roars of laughter from his audience. Its 
 usefulness to the Citizens' ticket was very great. 
 Conover, deprived of his paper and his money, 
 could not have wielded a tithe of the influence of 
 Professor Andrews. In fact, Conover more than 
 once in that campaign deplored his lack of boy- 
 hood acquaintances and old schoolmates in the 
 town of his birth. As a boy he had been kept in 
 a fashionable expensive boys' school in a distant 
 state, passing from that to one of the great uni- 
 versities. 
 
THE END OF THE CAMPAIGN 33 1 
 
 "We went to school together," defines the 
 rtrongest personal tie after that of the family; the 
 one most intertwined with childhood and early 
 associations, and intimate personal life. This tie 
 Conover almost entirely lacked in Bartown. 
 
 "I never would do it with any boy of mine," 
 said he seriously to Billy one day; "any son of 
 mine will go to school in his own town while he's 
 a kid, and to the public schools, too." 
 
 Conover was pouring out his money like water 
 these days. The Citizens' committee of course 
 had an immense amount of campaign work aside 
 from Billy's, which has not been described because 
 this book is telling Billy's story. But Conover, in 
 addition to the support of his paper and his heavy 
 financial contributions to the general campaign 
 committee, stated to the latter that he would be 
 responsible for all expenses incurred by the Teach- 
 ers' committee. 
 
 The Citizens had first given Billy a desk in 
 one of their office rooms. The surge of people 
 to see her required first a new large office and 
 then a suite of them, hastily fitted up between 
 dark and daylight. To their astonishment the 
 school issue became the biggest end of the cam- 
 paign. The tail began to wag the dog. 
 
 Things can be put through fast and at high 
 pressure when one doesn't have to even think of 
 the expense. In her work of months past Billy 
 had been gathering into her hands countless 
 
23^ CRAYON CLUE 
 
 threads of acquaintance and personal association. 
 When she wanted a thing done, she knew where 
 to get the right person to do it, or if she didn't the 
 wide personal acquaintance of the two McPikes, 
 and of Mrs. Courtney, Mrs. Livingston, Profes- 
 sor Andrews and his old boys, and all the rest of 
 her tried and faithful colleagues was at her ser- 
 vice. She knew where to get a man or a woman 
 at short notice, to put them to work instantly, and 
 slam things through at express speed. She could 
 get things done at this high pressure rate because 
 she had her own knowledge and Conover's money 
 to work with. She never stopped to ask the cost 
 of her hundreds of thousands of dodgers. She 
 paid people what they asked to do the thing she 
 wanted. She did not have to economize on tele- 
 phone bills or taxicabs, or painfully count the dol- 
 lars remaining in the treasury as most women's 
 organizations do. 
 
 Sara McPike was whirled out of her schooir 
 room and put in as Billy's deputy. Denny, swept 
 from his Democratic moorings like hundreds of 
 men who were cutting loose from their old party 
 ties, was working day and night among the trades 
 unions. Billy set up a blackboard in her head- 
 quarters, with a plentiful supply of chalk from the 
 Bartown schools. Before it she placed Kate 
 Miller, to explain and illustrate its iniquities to 
 all comers. 
 
 Sara took Kate in hand before she was launched 
 
THE END OF THE CAMPAIGN 333 
 
 upon the public. Sara came from the race which 
 supplies all the French modistes in America. She 
 dressed Kate Miller's thin gray locks until they 
 made a cloud of fine, spun silver about her schol- 
 arly brow. She gowned her in a silver gray 
 shantung which just matched her hair. Thus ac- 
 coutred, a pleasing and agreeable object on which 
 to rest the eye, Miss Miller made use of those 
 teaching abilities which had made her famous. 
 With a mind drilled for thirty years on the higher 
 mathematics she inexorably drove home to all and 
 sundry the reasons why the teachers of Bartown 
 were, so to speak, mildly in favor of a change in 
 the school administration. It came In a round- 
 about way to Billy that nothing else in the cam- 
 paign annoyed Mr. Dreiser so much as this 
 placing of Miss Miller in the limelight. 
 
 It was a life-and-death matter with the teach- 
 ers now. They had burned their bridges behind 
 them. It was hardly possible that any school 
 board could discharge three thousand teachers in 
 a bunch, but nevertheless the failure of the Citi- 
 zens would leave them individually in a mighty 
 precarious and disagreeable position. They gave 
 a kind of service which cannot be hired or bought. 
 The city was alive with them and their raving 
 friends and relatives. Channels where no one 
 would ever have expected to find it were per- 
 meated with the feeling they had aroused, and it 
 was a feeling of hatred and bitterness. The in- 
 
334 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 suits and injustices of the whole Dreiser regime, 
 smouldering underground since the death of Dr. 
 Haswell, had burst forth in a leaping flame. Even 
 women appointed by Dreiser were swept Into the 
 melee. They too had suffered, often more than 
 the others, because of the shameful monthly tax 
 which many of them had been obliged to pay. 
 That tax, by the way, was not collected for the 
 month of March. Conover had matters ar- 
 ranged with the Bram people to trail and secure 
 evidence against Krog; but he did not make his 
 accustomed rounds. The girl who had revealed 
 the matter to Billy, convinced that her action had 
 removed the Imposition at one stroke, in com- 
 pany with her associates of the taxed brigade, be- 
 gan to talk freely of what she had endured among 
 the other teachers. It was the last spur needed 
 to the old teachers, for should the ticket fail it 
 might be the next thing applied to themselves. 
 
 The campaign was a whirlwind during those 
 last two weeks, the last week of March and the 
 first of April. Billy did not sleep more than five 
 hours any night, and Conover averaged barely 
 four. All day and up to a late hour each even- 
 ing she sat in her headquarters, planning and di- 
 recting, with periodical forays into the enemy's 
 country for speechmaking. Every ounce of train- 
 ing, experience, strength, vitality and knowledge 
 which she gained In her entire life was drafted 
 into service for that high pressure fortnight. 
 
THE END OF THE CAMPAIGN 335 
 
 Teaching school Is not a bad preparation for that 
 sort of thing, when done well and successfully. It 
 is In Its essence the control and manipulation of 
 people in the mass, the guidance of their thought 
 and action, the awakening of their Intellect and 
 the Instruction of their InteUIgence. Transplanted 
 by circumstances and by her own brains and tem- 
 perament into a wider sphere of action, Billy 
 simply used the methods and faculties developed 
 in the schoolroom. And permeating all her work 
 was the dynamic quality which comes when deep 
 personal wrath, personal anger, personal hatred 
 and desire for vengeance feel themselves 
 righteous and allied to a righteous cause. 
 
 Not one word was said against Dreiser in his 
 capacity as an individual and a private citizen. 
 The campaign was fought out on its merits as a 
 public issue, and he was criticised, as he had been 
 from the first, solely in his capacity as adminis- 
 trator of the school system. 
 
 The other side, in its turn, breathed no word of 
 Ethel Pennington. No hint of her four days' 
 absence from home had ever been made public. 
 Aside from Bram's agency and the perpetrators 
 of the outrage, It was known to only Delia, the 
 McPIkes and Conover outside the family. It was 
 a part of Bram's business to keep the secrets en- 
 trusted to them, and the four friends could be 
 depended on. To every one else Ethel was simply 
 
336 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 at home sick; a fact now true, though it had not 
 been for four days. 
 
 For the first thirty-six hours after her return 
 they feared complete nervous breakdown for the 
 girl. She trembled when awake and cried out 
 when asleep. But young, healthy persons, whose 
 digestion is good, will rally from any mental 
 anguish, especially when that anguish is removed. 
 Ethel had suffered no physical hardship, except- 
 ing four days of deprivation of air and exercise, 
 and of almost entire sleeplessness. At the end of 
 thirty-six hours, much of it spent under opiates, 
 her extreme nervousness abated, and they let her 
 tell her story. Billy had guessed rightly as to the 
 device which accomplished the abduction. 
 
 "Why, it was the most natural thing," faltered 
 the girl as she told her story with many sobs and 
 pauses; "I had just stepped out of the car there 
 at Hickox and L where you transfer, I had 
 scarcely put my foot on the pavement, when a 
 motor car swept up beside me and a man stepped 
 out and lifted his hat. 
 
 " *This is Miss Ethel Pennington?' he said, and 
 then went on to tell me that Billy had been taken 
 very ill. He said she had been taken in the car 
 on the way to the meeting with Sara, and that 
 they had stopped and taken her into a doctor's 
 office. He had been sent for the family and had 
 reached the house just after I left. He said he 
 found Conover there with his car, and that he 
 
THE END OF THE CAMPAIGN 337 
 
 had gone straight to Billy with mother and Edith, 
 and had sent him to follow me up and bring me 
 to the house. I asked him what was the matter 
 with Billy and he said it was angina. 
 
 "Then, of course, I was terribly frightened, for 
 I knew angina can come in just that way, and peo- 
 ple drop dead of it in the streets when no one 
 knew they had anything the matter with their 
 hearts, and poor Billy had been working so hard 
 and we were all so worried for fear she wouldn't 
 hold out. So I stepped right into the car and we 
 just flew. When we got to the house they hur- 
 ried me right up to that room and the minute I 
 was inside they locked the door. 
 
 "Afterward the old woman came in and made 
 me undress, and took away all my clothes and my 
 shoes and stockings, and left me just a nightgown 
 and a wrapper to put over it, so even if I could 
 have got out I couldn't have gone on the street. 
 And then I had to do every single thing he told 
 me to, or he told me — he told me — if I didn't do 
 
 everything he said, he would — he would " 
 
 She stopped in an agony. 
 
 The question had to be asked and Billy whis- 
 pered, "Did he ever, Ethel?" 
 
 "No," sobbed the girl; "if he had I wouldn't 
 have been afraid any more; there wouldn't have 
 been anything to be afraid of. It was because I 
 was so deadly afraid of him that I wrote those let- 
 ters to him, and let the photograph be taken, and 
 
338 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 did everything else he told me. But I never told 
 him where the papers were, those Dreiser papers, 
 you know, Billy." 
 
 "Yes, darling," said Billy. 
 
 "He asked me If I knew where they were, and 
 I told him I didn't, and he threatened me, but I 
 said I didn't know, and so then he believed me. 
 But of course I did know all the time, Billy." 
 
 "Yes, Ethel," said Billy, In a voice scarcely 
 audible. 
 
 "So then one morning he unlocked my door and 
 had that other man, the one he called Jule stand- 
 ing there, and asked me if I'd like to talk to you, 
 Billy, over the phone. He tried to get you sev- 
 eral times before he could, but finally you an- 
 swered, and he said, 'Is that you, Miss Pen- 
 nington?' and then he handed the receiver to me. 
 But the minute I said, 'Billy, Billy,' this Jule 
 clapped his hand over my mouth and pulled me 
 away into the bedroom and kept his hand over 
 my mouth till the other had finished talking. But 
 I never dared to scream anyway, because he told 
 
 me that If I screamed just once he would '* 
 
 She went off into a trembling fit and they urged 
 her to silence and sleep. 
 
 "But just tell me first," she said feebly, "how 
 you ever found me. How did Delia ever get in- 
 side that house and yell that parowax thing? It 
 was Delia, wasn't it? I thought at first it must 
 be Denny, but it wasn't Denny's voice, and the 
 
THE END OF THE CAMPAIGN 339 
 
 voice was queer and I wasn't sure, but I thought 
 It must be Delia's." 
 
 They thought it wise for her to have her mind 
 taken as much away from her own recollections as 
 possible, and so told her Delia's part in that wild 
 night. 
 
 It seemed that Miss Perkins had a nephew, her 
 sister's son, who was a messenger boy. The youth 
 was of about her own size, although some nine 
 years younger, of much her saturnine and inquir- 
 ing disposition, and they were great chums. The 
 idea had arrived to her of trying on an old suit 
 of his, and of securing a wig at a costumer's to 
 go with it. When this was done, and her own 
 thin hair plastered tight to her head, the wig 
 properly adjusted and the mesenger boy's cap 
 pulled well down, there was nothing to reveal her 
 sex to anyone who had no suspicion of it. She 
 looked like one of those sawed-off, old young 
 youths who are not uncommon in the big cities. 
 
 Miss Perkins, owing to her looks and tempera- 
 ment, had not the opportunities for amusement 
 and diversion which come to more favored and 
 ordinary young women. As she put it herself, "It 
 ain't all because I ain't handsome, because bum- 
 mer-lookin' girls 'n I am gets a beau." 
 
 It was, in fact, partially because no young man 
 of Delia's station in life, who would have been 
 likely to ask so plain and unalluring a girl to go 
 to the show with him, would have come up to 
 
340 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 Della^s mental requirements. On the very few 
 occasions when things of this kind had happened 
 to her Delia had been much bored with the poor 
 youth, and taking no pains to conceal the fact had 
 of course received no second invitation. She had 
 been accustomed in her office work to associate 
 with men of a calibre far above that of any mis- 
 guided male likely to take her to the moving pic- 
 tures or for the innocuous dish of Ice cream upon 
 a summer evening. Such pleasures also, whether 
 with or without a gentleman escort, impressed 
 Delia as very tame. 
 
 Nevertheless every human being especially 
 when young must have some amusement, and 
 Delia got In the way of taking hers by going forth 
 with her hopeful nephew upon his rounds. She 
 had seen some queer places and acquired much 
 queer Information In his company, and in the ex- 
 citement of these nocturnal prowls found food 
 for a mind too active for the mental pabulum of 
 a Bartown boarding house. 
 
 Upon the day of Billy's interview in the sweat- 
 shop tenement, indeed about the hour when Billy 
 must have been departing from that seance, a 
 man had called up her office and asked If Mr. 
 Brackett were there. Upon receiving a negative 
 answer he had said, "When he comes in tell him 
 to come down to the old place tonight." 
 
 "Any name or address?" asked Miss Perkins. 
 
THE END OF THE CAMPAIGN 34 1 
 
 "No, he'll understand," replied the man 
 shortly, and rang off. 
 
 This message struck Delia as slightly unusual, 
 and her mind was on the watch for unusual 
 things, being fixed with painful intensity on the 
 fact of Ethel Pennington's disappearance, and 
 convinced without question that Dreiser and his 
 gang were responsible for it. So when she gave 
 Brackett the message she watched his face. A 
 fleeting expression crossed that massive physiog- 
 nomy which further roused her suspicions. One 
 can no more describe an expression of the face 
 than convey to another a strain of music by talk- 
 ing about it. Mysterious and uncanny Is that 
 process of nature by which a passing thought in 
 the mind will move the apparently motionless 
 muscles of the face In such a way as to reveal 
 something to the observer. 
 
 Without psychologizing the matter Delia had 
 decided to trail Brackett that night, with the re- 
 sults that we have seen. She took along some 
 money with her, being quite sure that were she 
 obliged to spend It she would be reimbursed; and 
 within twenty-four hours after that supper at 
 which we left her enjoying herself for once, 
 Bram's agency had offered her a place upon Its 
 staff at twice the salary she was getting. 
 
 "Did you ever?" concluded Billy. "They say 
 they always need at least one woman on the staff, 
 and it's hard to get one that's any good as a de- 
 
342 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 tective. She refused to leave the office till the 
 campaign is over. She said she thought some one 
 ought to be there to keep a watch on Brackett's 
 telephone. And do you know, neither Dreiser 
 nor Brackett has ever so much as suspected that 
 she had anything to do with us at all ! She quits 
 the day after election, and her salary goes from 
 fifteen a week to thirty at one jump." 
 
 "You don't say," ejaculated Ethel, her thoughts 
 taken from her own horror for the first time; 
 "well, I'm glad the affair was some good to some- 
 body." 
 
 The chief effect of the nervous shock the girl 
 had received was her continual worry over Billy. 
 Every minute that Billy was out of the house, 
 especially at night, she was in misery; and as 
 Billy needed to be out until ii or 12 o'clock at 
 night from then on until election, it was a prob- 
 lem. But she consented to go away to her Aunt 
 Myrtle, Mrs. Pennington's sister, of whom she 
 was very fond, with whom she could have both 
 change of scene and home care. Mrs. Penning- 
 ton took her there and then returned, reporting 
 her already better for the change. 
 
 Her mind at rest concerning Ethel, Billy 
 plunged into the campaign with the electric vim 
 which has been described. Conover also was 
 working with enormous energy. The great plant 
 of the Forum fairly quivered as he drove it with 
 shock after shock against the combined opposi- 
 
THE END OF THE CAMPAIGN 343 
 
 tion. His reporters, bleary with overwork and 
 undersleep, kept a wary eye on old "Before 
 Christ," as they had blasphemously nicknamed 
 him from his initials, and wondered with some 
 anxiety if he were intending to remain perma- 
 nently in politics. 
 
 Looking at the public aspects of the campaign, 
 the observer would have supposed that of course 
 the Citizens were bound to win. The Repub- 
 licans and Democrats held few meetings, did little 
 campaigning of any kind, excepting through their 
 papers, which kept up a continual angry attack. 
 These papers had once more turned their batter- 
 ies upon the Teachers' Association. For years 
 they had seen successive mayors of Bartown make 
 political awards of positions on the School Board. 
 For years they had seen school lands and school 
 buildings manipulated entirely by politics, and had 
 found nothing to say of the schools excepting an 
 occasional uplifting editorial upon the duties of 
 teachers. Now they were shocked and dismayed 
 at the spectacle of the teachers in politics. They 
 promised faithfully that steps would be taken to 
 prevent any repetition of so disgraceful an exhi- 
 bition. They wept salt tears over the degrada- 
 tion of the school system, the non-partisan char- 
 acter of which had been the pride of all good citi- 
 zens. They slurred Billy as the political boss and 
 walking delegate of the Teachers' Association; 
 they held up Conover as the man who had cast 
 
344 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 reflections upon the character of his dead grand- 
 father; a hard thing for Conover to bear, and 
 one which he had to stand in silence. But the 
 teachers no longer minded. They had learned 
 that nobody is attacked in the papers until he 
 amounts to something, one way or another. 
 
 Aside from the papers, the old parties seemed 
 to be doing very little campaigning. But those 
 who understood politics knew on what they were 
 relying. They relied first on the solid masses of 
 men who vote their own party ticket and cannot 
 be made to vote anything else. They relied next 
 on the entire body of men financially interested 
 in the present regime ; from those holding valua- 
 ble contracts for municipal work, down through 
 the oflUce employes and police force of a great 
 city, to the army of street cleaners and their 
 friends. These formed the machine, which under- 
 stood the carrying of elections and the whole 
 business of managing the politics of the city. It 
 depended also on those solid blocks of votes in 
 the slum districts which are always voted under 
 the instructions of the police, being composed of 
 persons who in one way or another, either be- 
 cause they are breaking laws, or because they 
 want a liberal interpretation of the law in the busi- 
 ness they are carrying on, can be forced by the 
 police to vote as they are told. 
 
 This seems an invincible obstacle to overcome, 
 and many timid persons think that this element 
 
THE END OF THE CAMPAIGN 345 
 
 always carries municipal elections. Nothing of 
 the kind is true, because if it were there would 
 never be a change of the party in power in any 
 city. The party that once got in would stay in 
 forever, which is not the case at all. But in Bar- 
 town a dangerous deal had been made between the 
 two old parties. The Republicans were in power, 
 but Bartown went Democratic often enough to 
 keep an active Democratic machine in lively ex- 
 istence. This machine had started out in all good 
 faith to put up a fight that would turn the rascals 
 out. But late in the campaign, becoming alarmed 
 at the growth of the Citizens' movement, the two 
 parties entered Into a combination by which half 
 of each ticket was to be sacrificed, each party 
 voting for certain specified candidates on Its own 
 ticket and certain ones on the other; the Repub- 
 lican mayor already in office being slated to suc- 
 ceed himself in this combine. The word was 
 passed down the line in both party machines to 
 Instruct the voters and workers to this effect. 
 
 The two old parties will Invariably form some 
 combination of this nature in American cities when 
 they see the governing power in actual danger of 
 seizure by an independent movement, like a fight- 
 ing husband and wife who will instantly combine to 
 trounce an Intruder. If they get sufficiently scared 
 before the nominations are made, they will nom- 
 inate a Demo-Rep ticket, the elephant and the 
 donkey trotting amicably together in harness in- 
 
34^ CRAYON CLUE 
 
 Stead of endeavoring to assassinate each other. 
 This combination is growing more frequent, fore- 
 cast of the future when both Democratic and Re- 
 publican parties will disappear, as the old Whig 
 party did before them, and their remnants will 
 fuse into one organization, rearing up defiantly to 
 meet the great new party which will arise to deal 
 with new and burning questions, as the Republican 
 party rose in Its day and generation. 
 
 As yet, however, this combination has been al- 
 most impossible to beat, and sounds the death- 
 knell of any third party that provokes it. The 
 present combination, necessarily made In secret, 
 when the campaign was well along, was a more 
 difficult and complicated thing to carry out. Nev- 
 ertheless Conover looked very grave when he 
 heard that it had been arranged. He had hoped 
 that the Citizens might slip in between the two 
 old parties, as such movements frequently do, 
 without awakening their alarm sufficiently to bring 
 about the deal. He declared in the Forum that 
 the deal had been made, and hammered away 
 every day at the strict party men, to show them 
 that their own machines had sold them out and 
 were working to give half their ticket to the other 
 party. 
 
 The terrible lack of the Citizens was organiza- 
 tion. They held great and enthusiastic public 
 meetings, the headquarters were thronged, but in 
 hundreds of precincts of the city they had no 
 
THE END OF THE CAMPAIGN 347 
 
 committeemen to look after their interests. In 
 many districts there were no chairmen. They had 
 none of the judges or clerks of election. Under 
 the law they were entitled to nothing excepting 
 watchers at the polls. There was a well-grounded 
 belief that should they win the election it would 
 be stolen from them on the count. 
 
 It was on this side of the game that Conover 
 was working night and day; to get chairmen and 
 committeemen In every voting district and pre- 
 cinct; to organize a body of watchers for every 
 polling place In the city who would be on duty 
 all day election day, and until the last vote was 
 counted and returns made at night. He wanted 
 those watchers to be men of a personal character 
 and a standing in the community that would com- 
 mand respect; respect from the polling place offi- 
 cials on election day, and respect in the courts 
 thereafter should suits for fraud arise later. It 
 was a herculean task. The Citizens had no great 
 body of office holders and employes, each with 
 his own friends and relatives, to do this work for 
 them. They could hold out no efficient prospect 
 of thousands of jobs to be awarded to political 
 workers. The thing had to be done through pub- 
 lic spirit, or through funds supplied from private 
 pockets. 
 
 When public Indignation rises high enough in 
 an American city all the machinery for the con- 
 trol of government herein described goes down 
 
34^ CRAYON CLUE 
 
 like a house of cards, buried under the snowstorm 
 of ballots piled upon It. This has been signally 
 the case with LIndsey, judge of the Juvenile Court 
 in Denver. Time after time both old parties have 
 combined against him, and the entire vicious ele- 
 ment of the city, Including the unfortunate women 
 and their male companions, has been polled 
 against him. Yet he has been elected each time, 
 with no patronage to bestow, and no corporations 
 to pay the expenses of his campaign. "But," as 
 Billy said ruefully, *'of course the women vote out 
 there. If we had the women we'd be all right 
 this time." 
 
 As it was the case went to the jury in Bartown 
 with all the friends whose fortunes we have fol- 
 lowed in this little story in absolute uncertainty as 
 to the verdict. 
 
 Election day was a legal holiday. More than 
 two thousand teachers, freed from their class- 
 rooms, stood at the polling places of Bartown and 
 worked for the Citizens' ticket all day. Assign- 
 ing them to their places had been Billy's last task 
 of the campaign. Upon their breasts they wore 
 large white satin badges with the words, 
 
 The Teachers Want 
 
 Clough 
 
 For Mayor. 
 
 THERE'S A REASON. 
 
THE END OF THE CAMPAIGN 349 
 
 For the Citizens were centring their efforts on 
 the mayor, whose vast appointive power made 
 him by far the most important figure in the city 
 government. 
 
 The teachers were not alone in their work. Up 
 in the residence districts members of the Woman's 
 Club were out under Mrs. Courtney. In the 
 poorest quarters of the city Mrs. Livingston was 
 marshalling her Salvation Army lasses and her 
 factory girls. And at the last moment Mrs. 
 Jimmy Wyndham swept down to the fray with 
 a flying squadron of young society women. Mrs. 
 Jimmy was a good httle sort who spent her life 
 in frivoling, yet was unable to frivol with entire 
 frivolity because she had a Conover brain. She 
 had once in her life gone out and canvassed for 
 votes with an American Primrose duchess in 
 whose house she was visiting, and it struck her 
 as the highest kind of a lark to do the same in 
 the city of her birth. No residence districts for 
 her, no, no. Some place where there might be 
 trouble; did they expect any rows at any of the 
 polling places; any shooting? Billy smiled grimly 
 as she assigned her to one of the toughest wards 
 in the city, along with a blue bonneted Salvation 
 Army captain. 
 
 Every teacher had been instructed to list all 
 friendly voters, so far as possible, in the precincts 
 in which she had canvassed, and bright and early 
 they were out in automobiles gathering them up 
 
350 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 and taking them to the polls. The boys from the 
 Classical High were acting as aide de camp at 
 every polling place; and Andrews' "old boys" 
 formed the efficient and devoted committeemen, 
 challengers and watchers In many a precinct. 
 
 All day Billy had covered the city In her car, 
 driving from precinct to precinct, seeing that her 
 workers were present, filling vacancies, carrying 
 people from place to place, doing the thousand 
 and one things that rise for the executive head 
 to do on such an occasion. 
 
 At 7.30 o'clock the polls closed. She knew that 
 the count could not be completed for hours, and 
 she went straight home without speaking to any- 
 one. Her work was over, there was nothing more 
 that she could do. She was tired, body and soul; 
 and In her heart was a strange sinking. The glori- 
 ous campaign was over. It had been a thing to 
 have lived for, even If It had failed. But life 
 ahead of her looked dull and flat. That deadly 
 depression which follows overstrain had her In 
 Its grip. What was she to set herself to, now that 
 the great campaign was over? Now that this 
 great, wonderful, absorbing thing, the campaign, 
 which had filled her life and soul and being, was 
 eliminated? 
 
 She was conscious of only one thing; the enor- 
 mous folly of trying to fight the massed powers 
 which held the schools in the clutch of their ma- 
 chine; the foolish, silly folly of beating human 
 
THE END OF THE CAMPAIGN 35 1 
 
 flesh and blood, human hearts and hopes, human 
 enthusiasm and patriotism, against the insensate 
 thing of gold and graft. 
 
 When her mother's voice said "Billy?" as she 
 entered the door, she did not answer. Mrs. Pen- 
 nington flew to meet her. 
 
 "Billy?" she said, a note of exquisite, almost 
 painful maternal tenderness in her voice; "Billy? 
 Oh, my poor child, you're done out." 
 
 She did not speak. Silently and swiftly they 
 undressed her, put on her warm wrapper, fed her 
 and stretched her out upon the outside of her bed, 
 with a soft puffed coverlid over her. 
 
 "Muffle the telephone," was the only thing she 
 said; "Conover will let us know when the count 
 is finished." 
 
 It was 12 o'clock that night when Conover 
 came up in his car. 
 
 "Please let me wake her, Mrs. Pennington," 
 he begged; "please let me do it." 
 
 She could not withstand the boyish pleading in 
 his eyes. She drew back and Conover went in 
 alone. 
 
 "Billy, Billy!" he cried. 
 
 She opened startled eyes. 
 
 "Can you come down?" he cried excitedly. 
 "There's a wild-eyed yelling mob down in front 
 of the Forum office. There's a pack of maniacs 
 let loose in headquarters. They're just a-honin' 
 for you. They say you've got to come down and 
 
25^ CRAYON CLUE 
 
 Stand up on a table and make the speech of your 
 life." 
 
 "Oh, Baring!*' she exclaimed; "have we won?'' 
 
 "Won?" said Conover, "jumping cats, I should 
 say we had. Why, they couldn't steal it away 
 from us. They stole all they dared in the tough 
 districts and then the majorities from the decent 
 precincts came down and just wiped 'em off the 
 earth. Licked both the old parties to a standstill. 
 Wha'd ye know about that; say, Billy, wha'd ye 
 know about that?" 
 
 Billy was sitting up on the bed, a mass of 
 tousled golden locks framing her little sleepy face 
 and black eyes as big as saucers. 
 
 "Oh, Baring," said she, "now the next thing 
 is to amend the city charter so we can have an 
 elective school board." 
 
 "No, Billy," said he; "not the next thing. Not 
 the very next thing; the very next thing is to ship 
 the big 60 h. p. over and go for a little trip 
 through Italy, just you and I together, hey, Billy? 
 A little trip through Italy and down into Sicily — 
 to Taormina, Billy — to Segesta and Girgenti, 
 down where the temples are. Ah, Billy, there are 
 such pretty things in Italy, and I'll show them all 
 to you. Oh, Billy" — his voice was smothered 
 now — "Oh, Billy, isn't it lucky you kicked about 
 the chalk in the Bartown schools?" 
 
 The black locks and the golden were inextrica- 
 
THE END OF THE CAMPAIGN 353 
 
 bly mingled, their lips found each other in a mo- 
 ment of intoxicating bliss. 
 
 "Oh, damn you, darling,'' said Conover in 
 strangled tones, "why wouldn't you ever let me 
 do this before?" 
 
 From somewhere in the depths of his coat Billy 
 was understood to say that she could not have it 
 while the campaign was going on. 
 
 "And why not, I'd like to know? Why not, 
 you little devil?" 
 
 "Because," she murmured, "it wouldn't be nice 
 for a man and woman to be carrying on a cam- 
 paign and making love on the side." 
 
 Conover shook with laughter. 
 
 "Then you aren't ever going into another cam- 
 paign as long as you live?" he whispered in her 
 ear. 
 
 "Baring," she said, "are you going to give me 
 a wedding present?" 
 
 "You bet your life." 
 
 "Anything I want?" 
 
 "Anything — pearls, diamonds, house 'n' lot on 
 toast?" 
 
 "Oh, I don't want any of those. At least — ^you 
 can give them all to me if you like, but I want 
 something else too." 
 
 "Hm. You're beginning early, aren't you?" he 
 demurred. 
 
 "Listen; I'll tell you what I want." 
 
354 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 She pulled down his head and whispered in his 
 ear. 
 
 He threw back his head and laughed uproari- 
 ously, then squeezed her tight. 
 
 "Oh, Billy, Billy," he said, "youVe all right." 
 
 He rose, unwillingly, but with determination. 
 
 "Get up," he said; "get up and dress. We'll 
 have many a night to kiss, my darling, but never 
 another night like this. Mrs. Pennington," he 
 shouted, "come and help her dress. Billy and I 
 are going to be married, Mrs. Pennington. IVe 
 got her cinched at last." And as she appeared he 
 ran to meet her, threw his arm around her and 
 kissed her on the cheek. 
 
 "You dear boy," she cried fondly, "even if 
 Billy hadn't taken you I'd have loved you for- 
 ever for what you've done for my girls." 
 
 "Now that's the kind of mother-in-law to have," 
 said he; "say, Mrs. Pennington, if Billy tries to 
 boss me around like she does everybody you'll 
 take my part, won't you?" 
 
 "Indeed I will," said Mrs. Pennington. 
 
 Billy and Conover trod on air that night as they 
 entered headquarters. Love and victory in the 
 same hour. It is an intoxicating thing to win a 
 hard-fought campaign. Not many women know 
 that joy. Men know it, and a few women in the 
 equal suffrage states. But to have the one man; 
 the one woman ; and victory besides I The ecstatic 
 roar that filled the headquarters, like a tribe of 
 
THE END OF THE CAMPAIGN 355 
 
 wild Comanches rejoicing, fairly hushed to silence 
 as the crowd gazed at the couple entering. Two 
 handsomer creatures than they were that moment 
 probably never trod the earth. Conover was 
 erect, gay, debonair, keyed to that pitch of tense 
 excitement which took possession of him at high 
 pressure moments. His blue eyes were dancing 
 and his fascinating smile curved those clean-cut, 
 cameo lips of his. 
 
 Billy had dashed cold water on her face; she 
 had swallowed strong black coffee; she had put 
 on her little gown of golden tissue with the little 
 golden slippers and silk stockings to match, and 
 she hung like a little princess of love and laughter 
 on Conover's arm. Joy and triumph Irradiated 
 them both ; youth and love and victory seemed to 
 create an atmosphere around them. In which they 
 walked as young gods. A moment they stood in 
 the doorway, and the crowd hushed to see them. 
 Then Conover, his head tipped slightly back, 
 laughed aloud, and raised the silk hat which he 
 was carrying In the air as If calling for a cheer. 
 
 Then the rush came. The two stars of the cam- 
 paign were seized and borne aloft and placed side 
 by side upon a table, and round and round that 
 table American men, stark raving crazy as a presi- 
 dential convention, held hands and circled at a 
 gallop, yelling like Indians of the plains; while 
 by the walls stood women In mild amaze, and 
 watched the unemotional sex express Its joy. An- 
 
356 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 drews and his old boys were In that mad gallop, 
 Dennis McPIke with the green flag of Ireland In 
 his buttonhole, and many a staid reformer who 
 had never thought to discuss anything more hilari- 
 ous than the commission form of government or 
 the Initiative and referendum. 
 
 It seemed Impossible that the celebration could 
 rage any more fiercely. But from that table Con- 
 over made his first and only speech of the cam- 
 paign, and at Its end he announced their engage- 
 ment. Then explosion after explosion was heard 
 as the pillars and the roof fell In. The building 
 reeled, the city trembled, and policemen in the 
 street below cursed In their throats but did not 
 dare go up and arrest the jays as they would have 
 liked. 
 
 They used to tell one story of that night long 
 after. Some one, in humorous mood. Introduced 
 a resolution that a committee be sent to escort 
 Mr. Dreiser, "the Protestant Pope of the Bar- 
 town schools," down to join the celebration. 
 
 "Mr. Chairman," said Denny McPIke mildly, 
 "I move an amindment." 
 
 "State your amendment, Mr. McPIke." 
 
 "I move you, sor, to amind by shtrlkin* out the 
 wurrud 'pope,* and subshtltutin' the wurrud 
 'pup.' " 
 
CHAPTER XVI 
 
 The Wind-up 
 
 THEY did not take the trip to Italy — not im- 
 mediately. Billy wanted to stay for the 
 ^'inauguration/' as she persisted in calling it, 
 though other people named it more modestly as 
 the installation of the new mayor. 
 
 So Mrs. Jimmy Wyndham lent them her house 
 in the woods. The woods were the pine forest 
 of a mid-southern state, a most lovely retreat for 
 the late days of April, ever chill and reluctant in 
 Bartown. They were married very quickly and 
 quietly and out of town before anyone knew it 
 except the small faithful coterie which had fought 
 through the campaign shoulder to shoulder with 
 them, and which Billy and Conover ever after 
 designated as "The Gang." They were gone by 
 the time Bartown knew it in the papers next morn- 
 ing, and they were among the piney woods while 
 the news was reverberating across the continent 
 and the Atlantic, in an aftermath of special ar- 
 ticles, mention on the society pages, and editorial 
 remarks. 
 
 The marriage of a man like Conover is chroni- 
 
 357 
 
358 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 cled like that of a prince ; for he is a prince of mil- 
 lions if not of territory; and he holds the power of 
 life and death over thousands in his hand, al- 
 though changed conditions have made the exercise 
 of that power less direct than when his feudal 
 prototypes held the right of capital punishment in 
 their own domains. When in addition to furnish- 
 ing a queen of the Conover millions he took for 
 that queen a woman who earned her own living, it 
 made of the affair a sensation. Those Americans 
 who reflect a regime just past, it is true, saw noth- 
 ing remarkable in Conover^s marrying Billy. 
 They thought Billy extremely lucky to catch such a 
 fortune, but money aside they did not regard Con- 
 over as belonging to any different order of hu- 
 manity from Billy. Had not one president of the 
 United States married a boarding house keeper, 
 and the wife of another taught school before she 
 was married? 
 
 But that element engaged, whether consciously 
 or unconsciously, in erecting rigid castes in Amer- 
 ica with all the accelerated speed with which 
 American civilization moves; and that vast mass 
 of newspaper readers who are just a step from 
 the steerage and who would not be reading any- 
 thing at all in any other country on earth, found 
 the item sensational, and the newspapers dwelt 
 upon it. 
 
 Billy and Conover had excluded the public 
 prints down among the piney woods ; and they re- 
 
THE WIND-UP 359 
 
 ceived little mail, for only their intimates knew 
 where they were. They were tired to nausea of 
 the strenuous life. For a little interlude they 
 wanted only the pine woods — and each other. 
 
 There the honeymoon nights throbbed them- 
 selves away; and there by day they talked in- 
 terminably, for they knew each other by deeds, not 
 words; their acquaintance had been a period of 
 violent action, with little time for conversation. 
 It seemed as if the days were not long enough to 
 say all they had to say to each other. Night came 
 before they had made any impression upon the 
 mass of things to be said, and Conover insisted 
 that Billy talked on in her sleep. 
 
 "Well, the Teachers' Association has appointed 
 Sara Business Agent in my place, so that's all 
 right," said Billy with satisfaction one day as she 
 laid down a letter from home ; "now the Associa- 
 tion will just boom." 
 
 Conover laughed. 
 
 "Those were two great girls of yours, Billy," 
 said he, "Sara and that Perkins kid. You know 
 Bram told me that he found out she was getting 
 fifteen dollars a week and offered her eighteen to 
 come to him, and she asked him what he took her 
 for. He had to give her thirty before he could 
 get her. That's what he pays his men beginners, 
 and she knew it. He said he thought that was an 
 outrage, as the men had families to support. I 
 told him I thought probably Miss Perkins would 
 
360 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 like the privilege of setting up a family herself 
 if she wanted to. Fm sure some poor man would 
 appreciate it." 
 
 'Td like to see the man that could get Delia to 
 support him," said Billy; **he'd have to be a smart 
 one. Delia is an unsocial being anyway, with ^ 
 cynicism concerning the worthiness of the human 
 race which is painful in one so young. She'll 
 never fall for the common lot. Her stunt is to 
 trail the rascals in the dark. But Sara's just the 
 opposite — she's all social in her nature. I never 
 saw a girl develop so fast as she has. Did I tell 
 you how I heard her calling down a compatriot of 
 hers at that Gaelic festival we went to?" 
 
 "No, how was it?" 
 
 "Well, she was talking suffrage to an Irish- 
 American, and he made the objection which is 
 getting to be the stock plea of the antis. He said 
 in a very superior way that there were too many 
 voting already; that the electorate should be re- 
 duced Instead of extended; that the growing Ills 
 of the Republic were due to placing the ballot in 
 the hands of those unfit to exercise it. His con- 
 science, he said, would never allow him to give 
 the vote to all the ignorant foreign women now 
 coming to the country. So then Sara let him have 
 it. We wouldn't dare do it, you know, but she 
 could. 
 
 " 'What a lucky thing it was,' said she, *that the 
 American people weren't feeling that way when 
 
THE WIND-UP 361 
 
 your father came over. How far are you from 
 the bog yourself?' said she. *The Irish have ar- 
 rived/ said she, *and so now the Poles and Huns 
 and Dagoes can look out for themselves and the 
 devil take the hindmost/ said she. 
 
 *'Sara says/' continued Billy, "that the glory of 
 the Irish race has always been that they were 
 *agin' the government.' They were ready to fight 
 place and power and stand up for the people at all 
 times. They were natural and glorious rebels. 
 She tells that story of the Irishman in the old 
 country that went to confess. He confessed sin 
 after sin and crime after crime till finally the 
 priest said, 'God save us, were ye never after do- 
 ing a good act in your life?' And the man says, 
 *Yes, I killed a landlord once.' 
 
 "But Sara says that now the Irish have got rich 
 In America they're joining in with the ruling 
 classes for the first time in their history. In- 
 stead of reverencing the fundamental principles 
 of the great democracy that took them in and gave 
 them a chance to show what they could do, those 
 that have got rich among them have now joined 
 the game of exploitation. She says these papal 
 titles being conferred on rich Irish-Americans are 
 one of the most insidious means of undermining 
 democratic feeling among the race in this country. 
 The papers and the patriots throw moral fits over 
 the American girls that marry for titles, but never 
 notice the American men that proudly accept papal 
 
362 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 titles. She says that Irish grocer who has that 
 chain of stores you know, who was made a knight 
 by the Vatican, ought to adopt for his coat of 
 arms the motto, 'Short Weights and Over 
 Charges for AIL' " 
 
 Conover chuckled. 
 
 "Sara's drifting away from the church, isn't 
 she?" he asked. 
 
 "No, she could never be a Protestant any more 
 than I could be a Catholic. She's a good Catholic. 
 She gets something out of the ceremonies and 
 mysteries of the church, some spiritual help and 
 comfort that console her for her dead. All 
 churches, you know, have risen from the sobs of 
 farewell at the graves of our dead; because we 
 can't let go, or conceive that we shall not see them 
 again. It's for that Sara clings to her church. 
 She sees nothing but blind surmise if she lets go. 
 But the organization of the church, the machinery 
 by which it maintains itself as an institution, she's 
 getting to see is just a human outfit like the rest 
 of the rings. She says if the church doesn't mind 
 its p's and q's it'll get fired out of America the 
 way it has from the Catholic countries. She says 
 the Irish women, who are good fighters, are begin- 
 ning to edge into the suflfrage movement in Amer- 
 ica, and that if the priests oppose them they'll 
 lose them." 
 
 "I wonder the Socialists didn't get you, Billy," 
 said Conover; "I know they were after you." 
 
THE WIND-UP 363 
 
 "Well, they got me theoretically, but not prac- 
 tically," said Billy thoughtfully. 
 
 *What do you mean by that?" 
 
 "I mean that I accept the Socialist Interpreta- 
 tion of history," said Billy; "the economic inter- 
 pretation of history. No one with any sense can 
 do anything else, I should think. But I can't work 
 with the Socialist Party. The Socialist Party, for 
 instance, won't do a thing to help a fight like the 
 one we had in Bartown, and they hate to see it 
 win. They won't work for anything except to get 
 you to vote the Socialist ticket. They have their 
 own reasons for that, which are perfectly satis- 
 factory to them, but I can't work that way. I'm 
 an opportunist." 
 
 "Then they must hate you," chuckled Conover. 
 
 "Yes, they don't like me at all. They don't like 
 to see any abuse abolished, or to see the people win 
 in any of these preliminary fights. They want to 
 see capitalism go on to the bitter end, just as hard 
 and fast as it can, just as the French monarchy 
 did. They hate any progress in popular rights 
 that comes outside their party. They would deny 
 it, but they do." 
 
 "Well, see here, Billy," said Conover, "I don't 
 see where you have any kick coming. You got 
 what you wanted without the vote." 
 
 Billy's eyes snapped. 
 
 "I like your saying that," said she, "after we 
 worked through that campaign together as we 
 
364 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 did, and then on election day you could go and 
 vote and I wasn't allowed to." 
 
 "That's right," said Conover; **It's all damn 
 foolishness. There Isn't any sense In It." 
 
 "Besides," said Billy, "I happened to have 
 great luck. I happened to Interest you, through 
 a peculiar combination of circumstances, and you 
 happened to have heaps of money and a big pa- 
 per, and we won. Women often win In excep- 
 tional circumstances, but the common ordinary 
 woman, woman In the mass, will never get what's 
 coming to her till she gets the vote. There's al- 
 ways a ruling class, but In a republic the voters 
 Impose a check on that class. But the women are 
 excluded from exercising that check." 
 
 "But they do exercise It, Indirectly," said Con- 
 over. 
 
 "Very well," said Billy, "If they do actually 
 Impose that check Indirectly there can be no harm 
 In letting them Impose It directly." 
 
 "I wonder If anyone can get ahead of a suffra- 
 gette," said Conover. 
 
 "Don't laugh," said Billy peremptorily; "that's 
 what makes me so mad at men, the way they 
 laugh at everything. I presume In a good many 
 cases woman suffrage won't make much difference, 
 but you know In a campaign like ours It would 
 make an awful lot of difference, Baring Con- 
 over." 
 
 "That's right," said Conover, "and I guess 
 
THE WIND-UP 365 
 
 that's the kind of campaign that's going to be 
 waged more and more from now on. But tell me, 
 Billy" — he stretched out on the ground under the 
 still, fragrant pines and put his head in her lap — 
 "what have you got laid out to do when you get 
 back? What's your programme ?" 
 
 "As for me," said Billy, rumpling his hair af- 
 fectionately, "I'm going to work for suffrage and 
 keep an eye on the Bartown schools. I'll help the 
 Teachers' Association." 
 
 "Boss Sara McPike on the q. t, I suppose," 
 said Conover. 
 
 "Nobody could boss Sara McPike," replied 
 Billy; "I'll help them get the tenure-of-office law 
 and a pension law." 
 
 "I suppose you think you can give them big 
 contributions now you've got a settlement out of 
 me." 
 
 "I didn't get It out of you," said Billy; "you set- 
 tled it on me without consulting me, like the thor- 
 oughbred you are. But if you hadn't done it I'd 
 have made you. I can't go asking a man for 
 money. I've had my pay envelope handed out 
 regularly too long for that. If you didn't want 
 me to earn my own income any longer it was your 
 business to provide me with one." 
 
 "Just so," said Conover. He reached up and 
 pulled her head down. "Guess we won't quarrel 
 over money, Billy," he mumbled. 
 
 "Well, go on," said he, after an interlude; 
 
3^6 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 "what have you got laid out for me? I might as 
 well know the worst." 
 
 *'You don't need to make any more money," 
 said Billy; *'weVe got more than we can possibly 
 use on ourselves. I don't see that you need get 
 anything more out of the Forum than make it 
 pay its own expenses." 
 
 "Rot," said Conover; "you don't know what 
 you're talking about I A paper that's just making 
 expenses isn't any good. A paper that's any good 
 is making money." 
 
 "All right," said Billy, "go ahead and make 
 the Forum make money then, and serve the people 
 at the same time. That's job enough for a grown 
 man, I should think. I don't see but what these 
 muckraking magazines make money enough. I 
 should think you could go after a national circu- 
 lation with your Sunday magazine, such as the 
 weekly magazines have." 
 
 "By gum, that's a good ideal" said Conover, 
 rising on one elbow. 
 
 Billy pulled him back. 
 
 "Then you've got to clean house," said she. 
 
 "Clean house?" 
 
 "Yes, go through all your investments and see 
 where your money comes from. You haven't any 
 child labor or sweated industries on the Forum, 
 I guess, except maybe that office boy you've got, 
 and I wouldn't mind if you did sweat him. If 
 there's any juvenile labor that does not stir my 
 
THE WIND-UP 367 
 
 sympathies it's the average newspaper office boy. 
 But if you do make a pot of money with the 
 Forum I don't see why you couldn't hand out a 
 percentage of the profits to all hands every New 
 Year. You couldn't make it without them." 
 
 ^'That's nice," said Conover; "go on. I see 
 my finish." 
 
 "Well, I don't know where all your money is," 
 said Billy; "didn't I hear you say you had some 
 in a cotton factory down south here somewhere?" 
 
 "Correct." 
 
 "You'd better take a look around then and see 
 if there's any child labor there. I shouldn't won- 
 der if we'd be able to scrape along without making 
 small children work for us. If you're drawing 
 any income from tenement houses, you'd better 
 look them over, and be sure they're fit for human 
 beings to live in, not giving them tuberculosis or 
 anything^ And you'd better see that none of them 
 are being rented for improper purposes. I should 
 hate to feel that white slaves were earning any of 
 the money I was spending." 
 
 "Go on," said Conover; "this is what comes of 
 marrying a stump speaker." 
 
 "I shouldn't wonder if you'd kick up row 
 enough in that much to keep you busy for a 
 while," said Billy; "but haven't you got a lot of 
 money in the Bartown and North Shore?" 
 
 "Guilty." 
 
 "You'd better look into that, then, and see that 
 
368 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 there's an automatic damage regulation on that 
 road. The spectacle of a great railroad fighting 
 a poor widow with nine small children over dam- 
 ages for a husband killed, or some poor fellow 
 with a family to support that's lost a limb doing 
 its work, would hardly be pleasing to a perfect 
 gentleman, I should think." 
 
 "An automatic damage law would be just an 
 incentive to carelessness." 
 
 "Shucks I No man is going to risk losing a leg 
 or an arm or a head just because he knows he can 
 get damages for it." 
 
 Conover sat up on the pine needles, lit a cigar- 
 ette and puffed it thoughtfully. 
 
 "Billy," said he at length, "the thing about you 
 Is that if I refused, after reasonable opportunity, 
 to do these things, and insisted on living upon 
 money which you considered came from cruelty or 
 oppression or disgraceful sources, you'd quit, 
 wouldn't you?" 
 
 "Yes," said Billy, "I would. I can't tell what 
 I'd do if I were in danger of starvation. Self- 
 preservation is the first law of life. But as it is 
 I can earn an honest decent living in an honest 
 decent profession, and I'm not so dependent on 
 diamonds and good clothes that I've got to have 
 them at the expense of my self-respect." 
 
 Conover smoked a while longer. 
 
 "But where does love come in?" said he. 
 
 "I couldn't feel as I do toward you," said 
 
THE WIND-UP 369 
 
 Billy, "if you could take money that came from 
 cruelties and abuses. If you were sick and poor 
 and out of a job, it would be different. But not 
 a rich man like you." 
 
 "I see," said Conover. 
 
 He puffed again. 
 
 "Billy," said he, "Fm hungry." 
 
 "You always are," said Billy dispassionately. 
 
 "Well, I don't think I've got much of any- 
 thing on you, you conceited little devil, you. Say, 
 Billy, do you know the reason why you were never 
 fired?" 
 
 Vivid curiosity on that subject had possessed 
 Billy for months, but the piney woods and the 
 honeymoon had made it all seem a little dream- 
 like. 
 
 "No," she replied with some animation; "why 
 was it?" 
 
 "Well, of course later things got too hot and 
 you got too prominent for anything so brash as 
 that. But right there at first you'd have been 
 fired in a minute if it hadn't been for that re- 
 ceipted bill, you know ; the one that showed Drei- 
 ser's rebate. You had that bill put away in a 
 safety deposit box somewhere. The Old Man 
 told me about it. He called you in the first time 
 you started out, you remember? And got it out 
 of you. But you wouldn't tell him where it was, 
 and you had them blocked. It was no good to 
 fire you. They thought you were just waiting 
 
3TO CRAYON CLUB 
 
 for that to produce the receipt. They thought 
 they might retain some little control over you by 
 keeping you in the job. Dreiser knew all about 
 your visit to the Forum within twenty-four hours. 
 And he knew every time you went to a newspaper. 
 They just sat back and watched you travel from 
 one to another. Glad to see you keep yourself 
 busy and out of mischief. 
 
 "But you had them all guessing. They put de- 
 tectives on you. You were trailed, but you never 
 went near a bank or trust company. All your 
 friends were looked up. None of them could be 
 found who kept a safety deposit box. Where'd 
 you have the thing, anyway?" 
 
 "Why, I had it in John P. Gainsworthy's box,*' 
 said Billy. 
 
 A wandering hand sought Conover's manly 
 brow. 
 
 "Would you tell me," he said with immense 
 politeness, "would you mind telling me how in 
 the name of the great two-tailed Bashaw you 
 came to have it in Mr. Gainsworthy's box?" 
 
 "Why, Ethel works for him," said Billy simply. 
 "He sends her to his safety deposit box. She 
 asked him if she might keep our endowment in- 
 surance policies there. You never can tell when 
 you're going to be burned out in an apartment 
 house. He said of course, so I slipped the papers 
 in the envelope with the policies and they were 
 there all through the campaign." 
 
THE WIND-UP 37I« 
 
 Laughter rose and engulfed Conover like a 
 flood. It poured from him in Niagaras of mirth. 
 It leaked from his eyes, it trickled away in drib- 
 lets to renew itself in other bursts as freshets 
 came down from the hills. Billy watched him in 
 amazement. 
 
 "Perhaps youM put me on," she said' frigidly. 
 
 Conover wiped his eyes. 
 
 **Why," said he, "John P. Gainsworthy is the 
 president of the Second National, where the 
 school funds were on deposit, the bank that was 
 fighting us so hard all through the campaign. 
 While Dreiser was going to such extravagant 
 lengths to get those papers they were gently re- 
 posing in the private receptacle of his friend and 
 ally. If you girls aren't the devil anyway. How 
 is it I never heard Ethel worked for the Second 
 National?" 
 
 "She didn't. She worked for the McKinley 
 Trust Company." 
 
 "Oh, I see; and Gainsworthy's president of 
 both. Say, Billy, did you ever think that Ethel 
 and Denny •" 
 
 "Yes," said Billy with a pleased smile, "I think 
 Ethel and Denny will hit it off." 
 
 He got up, then reached down and pulled her 
 up. Then he squeezed her tight and kissed her 
 hard. 
 
 "You're all right, Billy," said he. 
 
 "So are you. Baring," she answered softly. 
 
37^ CRAYON CLUE 
 
 They got back to Bartown In ample time for 
 the "inauguration''; in fact in time to attend a 
 few conferences, committee meetings, consulta- 
 tions and other moves in the game of politics be- 
 fore that distinguished event transpired. Imme- 
 diately after the installation of the new city gov- 
 ernment there was a meeting In the mayor's pri- 
 vate office which lasted two hours or more. At 
 its close Mrs. Baring Conover Issued from the 
 room, amid much shaking of hands and many 
 smiling congratulations, stepped into her waiting 
 car and was driven to the Board of Education 
 Building. 
 
 She went up to the floor on which the superin- 
 tendent's office was located, entered his outer 
 office and walked towards the inner one without 
 speaking to anyone. An office girl with painted 
 face, towering rat and skirt plastered tight to her 
 legs, sprang up from her machine and faced her 
 with lifted eyebrows and supercilious look. 
 
 Billy swerved gently by her and an older 
 woman pulled the girl back, whispering, "You 
 fool, don't you know that's Billy Pennington?" 
 
 Billy entered the Inner office without knocking. 
 She had purposely come a little late. Two men 
 sat there, Dreiser and Brackett. Both rose as she 
 entered, both stepped forward at the same in- 
 stant to place a chair for her. 
 
 Billy sat down in the chair. Then, as soon as 
 the two men were seated, she rose again, and 
 
THE WIND-UP 373 
 
 Stood looking down at them. She had made no 
 reply to any of their conventional words of greet- 
 ing. Now she spoke. 
 
 "I asked you to meet me here," she said 
 gravely, "because there is a little piece of infor- 
 mation which I wished to give both of you. An 
 hour ago Charles Cromer and J. P. Sheets re- 
 signed." 
 
 Dreiser's hand gripped the arm of his chair 
 suddenly, and he straightened a little. Her eyes 
 were fixed squarely on his. 
 
 "The mayor laid before them this afternoon," 
 said she, "the proofs we have collected as to ir- 
 regular methods in the building committee and 
 the committee on supplies. When told that the 
 new administration would begin an investigation 
 at once, they decided to resign. We gave them 
 their choice between that and an investigation." 
 
 She paused, waiting for each word to sink in. 
 
 "The mayor had already appointed three new 
 members of the Board," she went on. "He imme- 
 diately appointed two additional ones, who had 
 been consulted and had indicated their willing- 
 ness to serve. This gives the administration five 
 out of nine on the Board of Education." 
 
 She paused again. She intended the grilling to 
 be leisurely. 
 
 "These facts are being withheld from the press 
 for an hour or two at my request. The new ad- 
 ministration is very kind to me." 
 
374 CRAYON CLUE 
 
 Another pause. 
 
 "I was one of the new members," she said 
 softly. "The new Board met at once, at the city 
 hall, and organized by the election of a presi- 
 dent." 
 
 The words dropped slowly, softly, like chilled 
 honey. 
 
 "I was elected president of the Board," said 
 she. 
 
 The room was absolutely still. 
 
 "The action is somewhat unusual, but not un- 
 precedented. There have been women presidents 
 of school boards elsewhere, and the new adminis- 
 tration seemed to feel that I had assisted some- 
 what to place It in power." 
 
 Still silence. 
 
 "I thought maybe you would like to know," 
 said she slowly, "that Miss Kate Miller will be 
 restored to her position as teacher of mathe- 
 matics in P. S. 59; and that Mrs. Merrill will be 
 reappointed superintendent of drawing In the Bar- 
 town schools; and that your resignation, Mr. 
 Dreiser, and yours, Mr. Brackett, will be ac- 
 cepted. Professor Andrews is to be superintend- 
 ent of the Bartown schools." 
 
 She leaned over the desk a little, toward Drei- 
 ser. 
 
 "Every school journal and every big daily in 
 the United States has already spread your record 
 upon its pages," said she. "Even today no 
 
THE WIND-UP 375 
 
 metropolitan city will engage you. I wish you to 
 know that I will make it my business, with all the 
 power of money, politics and a big paper, to drive 
 both of you out of the teaching profession." 
 
 She looked a second longer at the two white 
 silent creatures ; then gathered up her long gloves 
 and turned negligently away. 
 
 *'That is all, I believe," she said. 
 
 At the door Conover met her. 
 
 "All right?" he inquired, with a wicked grin. 
 
 "Yes," she answered, and looked at him 
 sweetly. 
 
 "That was a nice wedding present you got me. 
 Baring," she said in a low voice; "the presidency 
 of the Bartown School Board." 
 
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