“No,” he disclaimed, “but I hate lies and hypocrisy, and that sheet” (pointing to the paper lying on the floor where Delia had dropped it) “is in the pay of the capitalists, and people read it and swallow any dope they hand out. This country will never progress till labor is represented in the capital at Washington and--and until things are reorganized on a basis of justice and equality,” he concluded rather lamely. He was flushed and seemed somewhat startled by his own outburst. “My, but you think a lot!” Delia applauded admiringly. “It’s time men began to think,” resumed Jim, encouraged. “It’s the duty of citizens to think and act. The good men stay away from the polls and let things slide, and the bad element gets in its dirty work, and the poor suffer. When I’m old enough to vote I’m never going to miss----” “Why, aren’t you twenty-one yet?” put in Delia. Jim was abashed. “I’m only seventeen past,” he admitted reluctantly. “You look at least twenty-two or three,” she insisted. Jim was pleased and grateful. “And you understand things so well. I like to hear you explain them, but I can’t talk--only about women’s things.” Delia looked demure. Jim, who as a rule talked little on any subject, was uncomfortable over having expressed himself so freely. Delia changed the subject again. “Have you seen Will Bennett since his wife died?” she inquired. “No,” replied Jim, relieved. “I saw him yesterday on the street,” said she. “Did you go to the funeral?” “No,” answered Jim again. “He looked as chipper as a sparrow. That’s the way men are. The funeral was beautiful,” and Delia launched into a minute description of the obsequies, Jim listening attentively. “I really must go,” he declared, at last, rising once more as she concluded, and extending his hand. “Well, you must drop in again to see me,” she invited, holding his hand as she spoke. “I’ve enjoyed it immensely.” “Thank you. So have I,” returned Jim. She released him as he took his hat from the table, and followed him to the door. “Don’t forget,” she smiled. “I’ll not forget,” he smiled back. When Jim returned to the store Mr. Sprague looked up from his ledger. “It took you a long time to deliver those fixtures,” he grumbled. “I--I didn’t come right back,” stammered Jim. Mr. Sprague scrutinized his son’s flushed face. “I should think you didn’t. Well, next time you come right back! Do you hear?” Jim passed behind the counter without replying. Jim remembered his promise to Delia. He thought of her almost constantly during his waking hours. The day following his visit he walked past her house. The plumbers were laying gas pipe from the street through the yard. He did not see Delia and went on. “It’s too soon yet,” he said to himself.