Maida couldn’t help her disapproval showing in her face, but she said: “It isn’t just the way I’d go about selecting a husband, but if it’s your way, all right. Can I help you?” “Do you mean that?” “Why, yes, if I can do anything practical.” “Oh, you can! It’s only to keep off the grass, regarding young Sam.” “You mean not to try to charm him myself?” “Just about that. And I’ll tell you why I say this. It seems old Appleby has about made up his mind that you’re the right and proper mate for young Appleby. Oh, you needn’t draw yourself up in that haughty fashion—he’s good enough for you, Miss!” “I didn’t say he wasn’t,” and Maida laughed in spite of herself at Genevieve’s manner. “But, truly, I don’t want him. You see I’m engaged to Mr. Allen.” “I know it, but that cuts no ice with Pa Appleby. He plans to oust Mr. Allen and put his son in his place.” “Oh, he does, does he?” Maida’s heart sank, for she had anticipated something like this. “Am I to be consulted?” “Now, look here, Maida Wheeler. You needn’t take that attitude, for it won’t get you anywhere. You don’t know Mr. Appleby as I do. What he says goes—_goes_, understand?” Maida went white. “But such a thing as you speak of won’t go!” she exclaimed. “I’m not sure it won’t, if he so ordains it,” Miss Lane said, gravely. “But I just wanted your assurance that you don’t hanker after Sammy-boy, so I can go ahead and annex him myself.” “In defiance of Mr. Appleby’s intents?” “I may be able to circumvent him. I’m some little schemer myself. And he may die.” “What?” “Yep. He has an unsatisfactory heart, and it may go back on him at any minute.” “What a thing to bank on!” “It may happen all the same. But I’ve other irons in the fire. Run along, now; I’ve work to do. You’re a dear girl, Maida, and the time may come when I can help you.” The round, rosy-cheeked face looked very serious, and Maida said, gratefully: “I may be very glad of such help, Genevieve.” Then she went away. Samuel Appleby was lying in wait for her. “Here you are, my girl,” he said, as she came downstairs. “Come for a ramble with me, won’t you?” And, knowing that the encounter was inevitable, Maida went. Appleby wasted no time in preliminaries. “I’ve got to go home to-morrow morning,” he said. “I’ve got to have this matter of your father’s help in the campaign settled before I go.” “I thought it was settled,” returned Maida, calmly. “You know he will never give you the help you ask. And oh, please, Mr. Appleby, won’t you give up the question? You have ruined my father’s life—all our lives; won’t you cease bothering him, and, whether you let him get his full pardon or not, won’t you stop trying to coerce his will?” “No; I will not. You are very pleading and persuasive, my girl, but I have my own ax to grind. Now, here’s a proposition. If you—I’ll speak plainly—if you will consent to marry my son, I’ll get your father’s full pardon, and I’ll not ask for his campaign support.”