“Never. Nick Milliken says thet’s what’s wrong. Thet’s why they’re against it. He says if you could get at what supports the stores an’ work on thet, The Guardian might be pulled out yet. I got my own notions about thet.” “About what supports the stores? The public, does it not?” “Part of the public.” “What part?” “Women-folks,” said the Boot & Shoe Surgeon tersely. Upon that pronouncement Marcia Ames pondered. There seemed to be a gleam in it. The more she thought, the more the gleam expanded. It became a ray of light. “The women!” she said. “Of course they do. Who ever saw a man in a department store?” “Well, I would n’t go thet far,” returned the Surgeon. “I reckon they’s a few. But they don’t wear out much sole leather there. And if any one was to say to The Big Shop or The Northwestern, or Ellison Brothers or any of them big advertisers, ‘We’ll take the women-folks away, but you can keep the men,’ thet store would about close its doors next week.” Marcia Ames rose out of her deep chair. There was a glow on her face. “Eli Wade,” she said, “you are a great man!” “No, _ma’am_,” disclaimed the other. “Jest a handy man with leather.” “Well, you are a dear! And that is better. I believe--I do believe--you have shown the way. If only there is time! I am going to take your big idea to high legal talent for consultation.” “Hain’t had any big idea sence”--his old, keen eyes twinkled--“sence the State Capitol flew the German flag in honor of the Surrender Bill. But who’s your legal talent?” “Judge Selden Dana.” “You’re the wonder, Miss Marcia. How’d you know you could trust him? He ain’t always been reckoned trustable.” “No? But in a matter like this--I am sure.” “Kee-rect! You got him. He’s marchin’.” “Marching?” “To the music of war. He’s quit slinkin’. Left--right, left--right! True to the drum. Watch his feet.” “Good-bye, Eli Wade,” said Marcia. “If your big idea works out--I shall love you forever.” To Judge Selden Dana, when she unfolded it, it seemed more like her own idea. Unquestionably, however, it was a promising one. If there were only time! If the scheme could be set afoot before The Fair Dealer was in the field; if some way could be found to delay the publication--at which point Judge Dana fell to thinking powerfully. All the pleasant candor went out of his face, as he pondered, and it became subtle and secret and dark. Yet the girl, watching, liked it and trusted it none the less in this manifestation. She knew that the mind within was working to good ends. At length he spoke. “I’ve got a plan for The Fair Dealer. No; never mind what it is. Forget that we even spoke of it.” “It is forgotten.” “Go ahead with the women. Mr. Clark and I will help where we can. You can organize the University girls?” “Yes.” “Good! One more thing. Not a whisper of this to Jem Robson.” “Mr. Robson knows nothing of it. What I have learned has been from Mr. Galpin.” “Nor to Galpin, either. Or any one else at The Guardian.”