“You minx!” he said fondly, as he stopped to give her hair a rumpling caress. Then with altered manner he turned to Rhoda with some directions for her mother’s comfort and messages for certain patients if they should call during the evening. The making of Charlotte’s toilette, at which Rhoda assisted, was enlivened by much gaiety of spirit on the part of the younger sister. Charlotte had put aside the teasing humor in which she so often indulged and was more affectionate than usual. Rhoda warmed to her in response and was delightedly absorbed in helping to deck her for the evening’s merrymaking. They laughed softly together at her little flashes of fun, which were so frequent that finally Rhoda exclaimed, smiling down upon her fondly: “You’re hatching up some mischief, sister, aren’t you?” Charlotte giggled. “Oh, I’m just thinking how I’ll punish Billy Saunders!” “And make him want to kiss you more than ever!” warned Rhoda gaily. “He shan’t, all the same!” Charlotte laughed over her shoulder as she tilted out of the room. From the veranda steps Rhoda bade Charlotte and Horace Hardaker good-night, and as they passed down the broad front walk between the lilac hedges called out gay nothings after them and laughed at her sister’s saucy rejoinders. When they disappeared down the street she went back into the house, softly humming to herself, for the merriment still stirred in her heart. She peeped into her mother’s bedroom and smiled with gratification as she saw that the invalid was at last sleeping soundly. Then she made a trip to the kitchen to give Lizzie directions concerning breakfast and afterward sat down in the living-room for a quiet hour or two of reading. It was in the early days of October, and the presidential campaign of 1856 was at its height. Mighty waves of political enthusiasm were sweeping the country and stirring it to its depths, as it had never before been stirred. The youthful Republican party was already showing a marvelous growth. From the South were coming open threats of secession in case Frémont should be elected. Rhoda was intensely interested and under the guidance of her father was eagerly following the progress of the campaign. She sat down now with a little pile of its literature on the table beside her and took up first a pamphlet containing George William Curtis’s oration on “The Duty of the American Scholar to Politics and the Times.” The quiet, intense conviction which glowed through its polished phrases set her pulses to throbbing. She read it through rapidly once, then went back and studied carefully the arguments, breathing high aspirations and noble ideals, by which he advanced to the conclusion that the prime duty of the scholar in that crisis was to work to his utmost for the election of Frémont.