"The right shall prevail," quoth Morehead, unblushingly.
"Isn't it funny," exclaimed Leslie, "that none of us ever thought of this before!"
Leslie thought of it a good deal afterwards, however, and the very next day in the Mastodon car she canvassed in person practically every house upon the Drive and over on Fifth Avenue to get the list of signatures that the Colonel wished her to obtain.
"This has got to be done right, Miss Leslie," he impressed upon her. "For when Eliot pardons your father, remember that he's got to show why he does it, and upon whose petition."
"You mean"—she faltered, "that he may be criticised?"
"It's quite possible, my dear. The Morning Mail, for instance, will doubtless roast him from here to Gehenna and back again."
Leslie's smile of girlish confidence returned.
"Eliot won't mind," she said. "I don't believe he cares much about anything except me. He'll do right by us no matter what happens, I feel sure of that."
"And I think," suggested the Colonel, "that when we hand in our petitions, we'll all go up together."