with his own hand and sent it to post.
Miss Wynn read the letter after Alwyn’s departure with a distinct thrill which was something of a luxury for her.
Evidently she was coming to her kingdom. The Republican boss was turning to her for confidential information.
“What do the colored people want, and who can best influence them in this campaign?”
She curled up on the ottoman and considered.
The first part of the query did not bother her.
“Whatever they want they won’t get,” she said decisively.
But as to the man or men who could influence them to believe that they were getting, or about to get, what they wanted‚ÅÝ‚Äîthere was a question. One by one she considered the men she knew, and, by a process of elimination, finally arrived at Bles Alwyn.
Why not take this young man in hand and make a Negro leader of him‚ÅÝ‚Äîa protagonist of ten millions? It would not be unpleasant. But could she do it? Would he be amenable to her training and become worldly wise? She flattered herself that he would, and yet‚ÅÝ‚Äîthere was a certain steadfast look in the depths of his eyes that might prove to be sheer stubbornness. At any rate, who was better? There was a fellow, Stillings, whom Alwyn had introduced and whom she had heard of. Now he was a politician‚ÅÝ‚Äîbut nothing else. She dismissed him. Of