"Certainly, Minna. Don't wait for me, Kathleen," but the girl paused
irresolutely.

"Shall I go to the studio?" she asked.

"No, you cannot get in; the door is locked. Go to your sitting-room and
I'll stop for you on the way to the studio."

"Honest Injun, Dad?" And her father, nodding vigorous assent, watched her
go up the stairs, then with a brisk step entered the reception room.

"How charming you look, Minna!" he exclaimed, in honest admiration.

"You think so?" and Mrs. Whitney dimpled with pleasure. "I do want to win
the election tonight--and clothes count for so much in woman's politics."

"I back you to win against all comers," and Whitney gave her shapely
shoulder a loving pat as he stooped to kiss her. "What is the matter with
Kathleen tonight? Her behavior troubles me."

His wife laughed softly. "She is suffering from an old complaint--she
is in love."

"What!" Whitney stared at her in blank astonishment. "With whom?" and
sudden, sharp anxiety lay behind the abrupt question.

"I suspect--Captain Miller."

"Miller? That silent--" Whitney checked his impetuous words. "Miller?
Good Lord!"