Again and again Vassar asked himself the question. He was still puzzling over the mystery of Waldron’s motive when a ringing cheer burst from the crowd and Zonia pressed his arm. “There she is, Uncy--there she is!” Waldron was leading to the rail a blushing girl. “No, no--sweetheart--that’s someone else--can’t be the Amazon--” “Of course, you silly--she’s not an Amazon--she’s my heroine. Isn’t she a darling? Now honestly?” Vassar was too dumfounded to make reply. Waldron was introducing her, the same cold smile on his thin lips, the same metallic click of his voice. “Permit me, ladies and gentlemen, to present to you tonight a new force in the world--a real leader of modern women, our Joan of Arc, the President of the Federated Clubs, Miss Virginia Holland!” Again the crowd burst into applause. The little head bowed with the slightest inclination and a smile of pure sunlight illumined an exquisite face. The Amazon he had hated stood before him a gentle creature of delicate yet strongly molded features, her high smooth forehead crowned with a tangled mass of auburn blonde hair. Vassar laughed at the sheer absurdity of it all. Such a woman couldn’t be the leader of the brazen mob of clamoring females he had grown to hate. It was too preposterous for words. She was speaking now. He didn’t know what she was saying. No matter. It was her personality that held him in a spell. Her voice was the most startling contrast to Waldron’s--soft and clear as the round notes of a flute. Its volume was not great and yet the quality was penetrating. It found the ear of the farthest listener in the wide circle of the crowd and at the same time the depths of his inmost being. There was no resisting her personal appeal. Before she had spoken two sentences Vassar was ready to agree to any proposition she might make. She seemed so sweet and sane and reasonable. Her appeal was to both the head and the heart of her hearers. The young statesman mopped his brow in a vague panic. If this was the leader who had marked him for defeat the situation was serious. If she and her kind should make a personal canvass of the voters of his district, he would have to rise early and go to bed late if he ever expected to see the Capitol at Washington again. And yet it was not the fear of defeat that really disturbed him. It was the confusion into which her personality had thrown all his preconceived ideas. Great God! If this sort of woman had gotten into the movement where would it end? How could she be denied? He laughed again at his preconceived ideas of the leader of Amazons and the sweet reasonableness of this gentle, brilliant, exquisite girl on whose words the crowd hung breathless. He was stunned. It was impossible for the moment to adjust his thinking to the situation. He was missing all her speech. For the life of him he couldn’t recall a sentence. He pulled himself up with a frown and listened.