“Yes,” says he. “You see, the Elks’ convention is coming to our national capital next week and the Spokesman has got to deliver a full hour’s speech to them and you just can’t imagine how I shall be put to it to invent something different to say. Only think of it I’ve got to work up some new compliment to pay to the Constitution! And every Fourth of July for a hundred and fifty years some twenty thousand orators have been warming up this old soup and putting in new flavors. Miss Riggs the great heart of the plain people has got to save me! You must tell me what to say--you and none other!” So there I am up against it again and I wishing I could get home so as to see if a letter has come from Pop. “America,” I says, “is a great country.” “Yes, I know,” he says, “but why? And how? What makes it that way? What--” “Hold on,” I says, “one question at a time. It is very simple you get yourself mixed up by thinking too hard. Anybody can see that what makes America a great country is because there is so much of it. Ain’t that so?” “Yes,” he says but kind of doubtful. “And because there is so many people in it. Ain’t that so?” “I suppose so,” he says but still like he didn’t. “You take these here Elks that is coming to Washington,” I says. “Everybody knows the Elks is a great order and why? Because there is so many of them and they’ve got a pile of money and they come here and spend it and raise a hurrah and they own the town. Ain’t that so?” Yes of course he can’t deny that is so. But still there is something eating him. “Surely Miss Riggs there must be something else--some ideas--” “Ideas?” I says. “Don’t you worry about ideas the people will tend to that, there is enough of them. If there is one person and he has got an idea,” I says, “that is something but when there is a hundred million has got it, that’s a hundred million times as much and if you don’t think that’s so you just go and ask Kayser Bill,” I says. And say, Mom, it was like a light begun to shine in his eyes. “Miss Riggs,” he says, “do the people really believe that?” “Of course they believe it,” I says. “Who’s going to stop them?” And Mom, I thought he was going to reach across the table and grab my hand in spite of his lady friend across the way shooting eye-daggers at him. “Miss Riggs,” he says, “you have saved me! You have restored my faith in the sublime principles of democracy! You have given me the theme of an immortal address a real piece of Elkoquence if you will pardon the pun. Upon these wings the Spokesman will soar to heights never before attained even by Him!” And Mom, he is so pleased, he invites me to go home in a taxi; and how can I tell him that my feet is wet and froze, and I would of rather of walked? Your happy MAME. LETTER IV IN WHICH I GUESS A RIDDLE DEAR MOM: