His face cleared, "You've shared a secret with me," said Mr. Mix, and although he spoke aloud, his attitude was as though he were whispering. "Because I happen to know that every Tuesday at ten o'clock there's a meeting of a--a certain organization of which you're the illustrious president. Needless to say, I refer to the Ethical Reform League." He lowered his voice. "I ask your pardon for the intrusion of anything of such a delicately personal nature, Miss Starkweather, but I _must_ tell you that when a person, such as yourself, even in the midst of inconsolable sorrow, can't forget that great principles and great institutions can never perish, but are immortal, and go on forever--that's true nobility of character, Miss Starkweather, and I honour you for it." She touched her eyes with her handkerchief. "Thank you, Mr. Mix. Yes, I intend to make a contribution to our League--in memory of my brother. You're--familiar with our League?" He gestured effectively. "Familiar with it? You might as well ask me if I'm familiar with the Emancipation Proclamation--the Magna Charta." And this was accurate; his knowledge of all three was based on hearsay evidence. "And are you at all in sympathy with it?" "My dear lady! I was one of the pioneer supporters of suffrage in this region. I--" "Yes, I know that, and I know your work in the Associated Charities, and in your church, but--how did you vote on prohibition?" He side-stepped with great agility. "How would any man of my calibre vote?" "True, true." She was becoming animated. "But we've tremendous problems yet to solve.... Do you believe in enforcing the laws, Mr. Mix? The Sunday laws especially?" Mr. Mix picked up his cue, and gave thanks for the diversion. "Dear lady, I am a citizen. As a citizen, I help to _make_ the laws; they're made by all of us for our own good. Show me a man who _doesn't_ believe in enforcing the laws, and I won't argue with him--I couldn't count on his sincerity." "It's a pleasure to talk to a man like you," she said. "I wonder if you agree with our other ideals. Er--what do you think about dancing?" He had a good phrase which he had been saving up for six weeks. "Dancing," he said, "is popular because it's so conspicuously innocent, and so warmly satisfactory to the guilty." "Good! _Good!_ How about tobacco?" This, too, he side-stepped. "It's a poison, so the doctors say. Who am I to put any opinion against theirs?" She was regarding him earnestly, and a little perplexedly. "How is it, when in spirit you're one of us, you've never joined the League?" "I-I've never been invited," said Mr. Mix, somewhat taken aback. "Then _I_ invite you," she said, promptly. "And I know you'll accept. It's men like you we need--men with some backbone; prominent, useful citizens. You sit right there. I've got an application blank in my desk. Read it over when you get home, and sign it and mail it to me."