"He makes a grab for me every time I pass him on the stairs; that is, when his mother is n't looking." "Why don't you turn around and break his face?" he demanded angrily, lapsing into graphic vernacular. The suggestion was obviously too absurd to need reply. "I 'd like to get my hands on the young whelp," he went on, squaring his shoulders. "I would n't leave a whole bone in his body." "You can't do that, Tom, dear," she expostulated, in gentle alarm. "No, I can't," he admitted reluctantly. "It would n't do to be pinched for assault and battery only a fortnight before election. I won't write him a threatening anonymous letter, either. That is n't my way of doing business. I tell you, Lena, you 've got to get rid of him, yourself." "I will," she declared, with what was, for her, a tone of decision. "I 'm going to leave to-morrow." "That is n't getting rid of him; that's running away," he fumed, profoundly dissatisfied. "You 'll meet the same sort of thing in the next place. Why don't you stay and fight it out?" "I don't like the girls, either," she explained. "They 're all against me." "A lot of cats," he muttered. "But where are you going?" "To Bishop Wycliffe's." "No!" he cried. "Why not?" she questioned. "It 's an easier place than this one. There are no young men there, Tom. That ought to satisfy you. I saw Miss Wycliffe to-day." "I don't like the bishop," he said, with some hesitation, as if aware of the lameness of the objection, "and he does n't like me. There 's no man in this town more opposed to me than he is. I don't want you to go there." "You never let me do what I want to, Tom," she complained despairingly. He caught her in his arms and gave her an exasperated kiss. The logic of the argument was with her, and he could meet it only by an unreasonable prohibition. "I don't want you to go, anyhow," he reiterated. "But I 've got to go somewhere," she insisted, placing her two hands upon his shoulders. She attempted to give him a little shake, with the result that she shook only herself. His physical immobility was so suggestive of his mental attitude that she desisted, with sudden meekness, and the point was apparently settled as he wished. He possessed himself of her hand, and began to stroke the inside of her arm, as if he had discovered a new charm in her. "If you did n't give him what he deserved, what did you do, Lena?" he demanded, going back to the incident that had aroused his jealousy. "I drew away, Tom." "As gentle as a kitten, and without a word, too, I 'll be bound. You 're altogether too pretty--that's the trouble with you. I ought to put you in a cage, to keep you safe." "Tom, dear," she said suddenly, "I hear the Pyles talking about politics when I wait on the table. They say that you have n't the ghost of a chance to be elected. Now that you 've thrown up your job, what will you do if you are defeated?"