His wife was of a totally different stamp, showing evidence of unusual force.  Her thin lips, her clean-cut nose betokened purpose; a pair of alert, unpleasant eyes spoke of a mental activity that was entirely lacking in her mate, and she was generally recognized as the source of what little prominence he had attained.

“Yes, we’re going to make a change,” she repeated.  “I’m glad, too, for I’m tired of housework.”

“You don’t have to do your own work.  There’s Lorelei to help.”

“You know I wouldn’t let her do it.”

“Afraid it would spoil her hands, eh?” Mr. Knight snorted, disdainfully.  “What are hands made for, anyhow?  Honest work never hurt mine.”

Jim stirred and smiled; the retort upon his lips was only too obvious.

“She’s too pretty,” said the mother.  “You don’t realize it; none of us do, but—­she’s beautiful.  Where she gets her good looks from I don’t know.”  “What’s the difference?  It won’t hurt her to wash dishes.  She wouldn’t have to keep it up forever, anyhow; she can have any fellow in the county.”

“Yes, and she’ll marry, sure, if we stay here.”

Knight’s colorless eyes opened.  “Then what are you talking about going away to a strange place for?  It ain’t every girl that can have her pick.”

Mrs. Knight began slowly, musingly:  “You need some plain talk, Peter.  I don’t often tell you just what I think, but I’m going to now.  You’re past fifty; you’ve spent twenty years puttering around at politics, with business as a side issue, and what have you got to show for it?  Nothing.  The reformers are in at last, and you’re out for good.  You had your chance and you missed it.  You were always expecting something big, some fat office with big profits, but it never came.  Do you know why?  Because you aren’t big, that’s why.  You’re little, Peter; you know it, and so does the party.”

The object of this address swelled pompously; his cheeks deepened in hue and distended; but while he was summoning words for a defense his wife ran on evenly: 

“The party used you just as long as you could deliver something, but you’re down and out now, and they’ve thrown you over.  Fogarty offers to pay his debt, and I’m not going to refuse his help.”

“I suppose you think you could have done better if you’d been in my place,” Peter grumbled.  He was angry, yet the undeniable truth of his wife’s words struck home.  “That’s the woman of it.  You kick because we’re poor, and then want me to take a fifteen-hundred-dollar job.”

“Bother the salary!  It will keep us going as long as necessary”

“Eh?” Mr. Knight looked blank.

“I’m thinking of Lorelei.  She’s going to give us our chance.”

“Lorelei?”

“Yes.  You wonder why I’ve never let her spoil her hands—­why I’ve scrimped to give her pretty clothes, and taught her to take care of her figure, and made her go out with young people.  Well, I knew what I was doing; it was part of her schooling.  She’s old enough now; and she has everything that any girl ever had, so far as looks go.  She’s going to do for us what you never have been and never will be able to do, Peter Knight.  She’s going to make us rich.  But she can’t do it in Vale.”