Strange Wild Things

"Phoebe," said David Kildare as he seated himself on the corner of the
table just across from where Phoebe sat in Major Buchanan's chair writing
up her one o'clock notes, "what is there about me that makes people think
they must make me judge of the criminal court of this county? Do I look
job-hungry so as to notice it?"

"No," answered Phoebe as she folded her last sheet and laid down her
pencil, "that is one thing no one can accuse you of, David. But your work
down there has brought its results. They need you and are calling to you
rather decisively I think. Any more delegations to-day?"

"Several. Susie Carrie Snow came with more Civic Improvements, rather
short as to skirts and skimpy as to hats. They have fully decided that I
am going to feed Mayor Potts out of my hand as Taylor does, and they want
my influence to put up two more drinking fountains and three brass plates
to mark the homes of the founders of the city, in return for their
precious support. I promised; and they fell on my neck. That is, if _you_
don't mind?" David edged a tentative inch or two nearer Phoebe who had
rested her elbows on the table and her head on her hands as she looked up
at him.

"I don't," she answered with a cruel smile. Then she asked, with an
unconcerned glance over the top of his head, "Did you hear from the
United Charities?"

"Well, yes, some," returned David with an open countenance, no suspicion
of a trap in even the flicker of an eyelash. "They sent Mrs. Cherry.
Blooming more every day isn't she, don't you think? She didn't fall on my
neck worth a cent though I had braced myself for the shock. She managed
to convey the fact that the whole organization is for me just the same.
It's some pumpkins to be a candidate. I'm for all there is in it--if at
all."