“Don’t you see, Major, don’t you see, he tried to make a play to the masses of protecting the city’s property and the city’s law and order, but he jumped into a hornet’s nest?  We managed to keep it all out of the morning paper but something is sure to creep in.  Hadn’t we better have a conference with the editors?” Tom was a solid quantity to be reckoned with in a stress that called for keenness of judgment rather than emotion.

“Ask them for a conference in the editorial rooms of the Gray Picket at two-thirty, Tom,” answered the major.  “In the meantime I’ll draft an editorial for the special edition.  We must come out with it in the morning at all odds.”

In a few moments the echo of their steps over the polished floors and the ring of their voices had died away and the major was once more alone in his quiet library.  He laid aside his books and drew his chair up to the table and began to make preparations for his editorial utterances.  His rampant grizzled forelock stood straight up and his jaws were squared and grim.  He paused and was in the act of calling Jeff to summon Phoebe over the wire when the curtains parted and she stood on the threshold.  The major never failed to experience a glow of pride when Phoebe appeared before him suddenly.  She was a very clear-eyed, alert, poised individuality, with the freshness of the early morning breezes about her.

“My dear,” he said without any kind of preliminary greeting, “what do you make of the encounter between David Kildare and Julge Taylor?  The boys have been here, but I want your account of it before I begin to take action in the matter.”

“It was the most dastardly thing I ever heard, Major,” said Phoebe quietly with a deep note in her voice.  “For one moment I sat stunned.  The long line of veterans as I saw them last year at the reunion, old and gray, limping some of them, but glory in their bright faces, some of them singing and laughing, came back to me.  I thought my heart would burst at the insult to them and to—­us, their children.  But when David rose from his chair beside me I drew a long breath.  I wish you could have heard him and seen him.  He was stately and courteous—­and he said it all.  He voiced the love and the reverence that is in all our hearts for them.  It was a very dignified forceful speech—­and David made it!” Phoebe stood close against the table and for a moment veiled her tear-starred eyes from the major’s keen glance.

“Phoebe,” he said after a moment’s silence, “I sometimes think the world lacks a standard by which to measure some of her vaster products.  Perhaps you and I have just explored the heart of David Kildare so far.  But a heart as fine as his isn’t going to pump fool blood into any man’s brain—­eh?”