They were once more on the Chicago Flyer, this time on the way East, and Alice looking out of the window, saw that within a few minutes they would be in New York. The Red Knight lay back in his chair, almost as worn and pale as after that terrible battle in North Dakota, when he fell off so often on his head.

"A drink of water, please, Alice," said the Red Knight.

They had mislaid their individual drinking-cups, so Alice brought him some water in his helmet, and after he had drunk, she bathed his forehead with the rest.

"Well, it was a hard fight," said the Red Knight. "But we won."

"Do you think so?" said Alice, greatly surprised.

"We must have won," said the Red Knight. "We couldn't help it. Look at it yourself. My motives were of the very highest, my followers were the best men in the country, my strategy was absolutely faultless. There wasn't a mistake or an oversight. So, of course, I must have won."

"But I am really afraid," said Alice, "that the others think they came out best."

"That was part of my game," said the Red Knight. "Let them sink in the quicksands of their own delusions. Let them go on thinking they have nominated some one else. Let them go ahead and elect him. Let the fact be set down in the school histories. What does it all prove? Nothing."

The train came to a stop and Alice and the Red Knight took a taxicab for the latter's place of business. The time had come to say good-by. They stood at the door of the Outlooking Glass office, just as the edition was being made up. From the pressrooms to the editorial rooms all was animation. The chief editor was shooting copy up the tubes as fast as the office boys could write it. The latest advertisements were coming in over the wire. The desk men were waiting for the editorial writers to finish their comments on the week's news before setting down the facts.

Alice turned to shake hands with the Red Knight. It had been an exciting time, and she was tired and very anxious to be at home with mamma. But she had grown fond of her comrade in the Outlooking Glass. When she was back again at her stupid lessons, studying that 2 and 2 makes 4, and that "yes" is affirmative and "no" is negative, and that black is black and white is white, oh, how she would miss the Red Knight.

But she was very brave, and, stretching out her hand, she said, "Good-by."

The Red Knight pressed her hand affectionately.

"I wish you would write something in my little pocket album," said Alice, trying to keep back her tears.

"Gladly," said the Red Knight, and taking the book he wrote:

Never put off till to-morrow
A thing you can get today.

"Thank you," said Alice. "I don't suppose we shall ever meet again."

"Well, there's 1916," said the Red Knight. "Shall we say four years from now on Lincoln's birthday?"

"But there would be no use trying," said Alice.

"You could help me a great deal, you know," said the Red Knight. "By that time women will be voting everywhere. On the one hand there will be woman's new privileges to discuss, and on the other hand there will be her new responsibilities. My hat is still good for something."

"No, no, no," said Alice. "I don't want you to go campaigning any more. The fact is, you are not as strong as you used to be."

"Suppose it is a fact, what difference does it make?" said the Red Knight.

But Alice would not listen. "Why must you always be fighting? Why not leave that for younger people, and let everybody remember you at your best?"

"A man must do something exciting," said the Red Knight.

"Of course he must," said Alice. "I hope, and I'm sure we all hope, you will go on contributing for years and years and years. Good-by."

Her eyes were wet with tears as she sprang backwards through the Outlooking Glass. The Red Knight vanished. She was home again, home in the dear old room with the big reading lamp on the table, and mamma busy with the baby's things, and father asleep over a copy of the Aldrich Monetary Report.

"Oh mamma," she cried.

"What is it, Alice?" said her mother.

"I have such a headache, mamma. I have been in politics."

By the Same Author