"Do you suppose she'd let us make her the next president of the P. W.'s?" asked Bella, when the mayor left the room.
"Bless you, no!" answered Mrs. Bateman. "What would a woman who has been mayor of a city want of our little club-presidency? Let her take the rest she has earned. She needs it; she is looking worn and pale."
"No wonder. I wish she would marry some nice man," answered the irrepressible Bella.
"There isn't any good enough for her," said Mrs. Mason shortly. "Now, ladies, if there is any business to be done, let's get at it."
When Gertrude arrived at her office John Allingham was waiting for her. She had not seen him alone for months, except for the few brief moments when he had been forced to consult her in regard to some detail of his department work. He looked anxiously at her when she entered the room, not dreaming that her heart was leaping in her bosom at sight of him.
"I want to see you alone a few minutes," he began.
The stenographer rose mechanically and withdrew, closing the door behind her.
"See here,—what is this about your retiring from office," he asked. "You mustn't do it."
"Mustn't I?" she asked.
"By no means," he answered decisively. "You have everything in good running order, your enemies routed, the grafters where they belong, a year of steady improvement under the new order of things,—and the public all with you. It is not right for you to leave now."