"Well," returned Gertrude, "the best way to fight the saloon is to offer a substitute greater in interest. In my ideal city not only will there be plenty of free baseball diamonds, but also golf links and tennis courts, to invite thousands of people into the city's pleasure resorts. A dozen playgrounds will be laid out in the congested districts. Here trained men will teach the children of the poor how to play. These children will be taken from the street. They will be saved from the reformatory. They will be given good bodies to live in. In this way the work of the police department will be diminished, for one playground is the equivalent of several patrolmen. And it does not cost one-quarter as much. Who knows but our Roma of tomorrow will do these things on a grander scale than any of our cities have yet attempted? It will rival the saloon and bring opportunities for recreation and happiness within easy access of the poorest man's home."
But Mary Snow did not answer. She had caught Bailey Armstrong's smile as he passed down the room, and even the ideal city faded into insignificance as a warm thrill called the color into her cheeks, and made Gertrude say as she glanced up at her:
"How pretty you look, Mary. I wouldn't suppose you were a day over eighteen."
CHAPTER XII
Skirmishing
When Gertrude returned to her office a man sat waiting for her, a big, burly looking man with an evil-looking eye.
"I want to talk with you alone," he said when she had taken her seat. "Can't you send the others out?"
She was surprised at the request and started to say that her private secretary must be present at all interviews; when she thought better of it and motioned the stenographer and Miss Snow to go out.