"By jove! so would I!" exclaimed Frank Bowman, vigorously. "It was pay night for my men last Saturday night. One third of them have not shown up this morning, and half of those that have are not fit for work. I've got a reputation to make here. If this drunkenness goes on I'll have a fat chance of making good with the Board of Directors of the railroad."
"How about making good with that pretty daughter of Vice President
Harrison's?" asked Janice, slily.
Bowman blushed and laughed. "Oh! she's kind. She'll understand. But
I can't take the same excuses for failure to a Board of Directors."
"Of course not," laughed Janice. "A mere Board of Directors hasn't half the sense of a lovely girl—nor half the judgment."
"You're right!" cried Bowman, seriously. "However, to get back to my men. They've got to put the brake on this drinking stuff, or I'll never get the job done. As long as the drink is right here handy in Polktown, I'm afraid many of the poor fellows will go on a spree every pay day."
"It is too bad," ventured Janice, warmly.
"I guess it is! For them and me, too!" said Bowman, shaking his head. "Do you know, these fellows don't want to drink? And they wouldn't drink if there was anything else for them to do when they have money in their pockets. Let me tell you, Janice," he added earnestly, "I believe that if these fellows had it to vote on right now, they'd vote 'no license' for Polktown—yes, ma'am!"
"Oh! I wish we could all vote on it," cried Janice. "I am sure more people in Polktown would like to see the bar done away with, than desire to have it continued."
"I guess you're right!" agreed Bowman.
"But, of course, we 'female women,' as Walky calls us, can't vote."