“I do not doubt if our flag were openly dishonored you, too, would spring to arms and give your life-blood as heroically as those who fell at Manassas or in the Wilderness. “But how many young men have that kind of heroism that impels them to devote their culture and ability to unostentatious, unceasing service to the state, though it bring no glory or reward in fame or office? No, the cowards are not so often to be found on the battlefield as at the committee meeting and the caucus. “True, there seems to be nothing sublime in being a faithful health commissioner, an Anthony Comstock, a General Armstrong, or a Felix Adler; nothing glorious in busying one’s self with such prosy things as labor statistics and tenement houses, with prison reform and sewage and primary schools and ward politics. ’Tis a thankless task, and the large per cent. of our Boston legal voters who did not vote yesterday doubtless think, if they think at all, that even the casting of a ballot once or twice a year is too great a sacrifice of their valuable time, and more than ought to be expected of men whose private and social interests are of far more importance than the welfare of the body politic. “And as for caucuses, how preposterous to expect a man who has such important matters as Art Club receptions, Psychical Research meetings, and Longwood toboggan parties to attend, to spend one or two evenings a year in the company of grocers and saloon-keepers, all for the sake of defeating some lamplighter or pawnbroker who wants a nomination for the city council! What difference does it make who is on the council, provided taxes are not raised? “Yes,” continued Mildred, and a shade of melancholy replaced the quiet scorn in her tone, “the last thing that you or they ever dream of is that you have a debt to pay and are basely repudiating it.” The voice, whose tremor at last betrayed the intensity of the feeling that had hitherto been carefully guarded, ceased, and suddenly starting with a self-conscious look, and coloring deeply, Mildred glided softly from the room. Aunt Madison followed her. The fire had burned low and the light was dim. The young men had forgotten me in the sofa corner. There was not a word said for a minute or two as they sat looking into the bed of coals and listening to the wind shuddering through the bare branches of the elms outside. Mr. Mather sat leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and his head on his hands; I could not see his face. Presently he looked up and made a motion as if to speak, but apparently he changed his mind, for he said nothing. At last Mr. Gordon’s voice broke the silence. “I say, Madison,” he asked, with a studiously polite manner, “who is this charming Miss Brewster who has favored us with the benefit of her views?” “She is a sort of second cousin of my mother,” Will replied. “She has just returned from abroad, and I haven’t seen much of her yet.”