I'm in love with Clare Kavanagh, or intend to
marry Clare Kavanagh, or want to marry her--or that she wants to marry
me. That's straight, and I don't want to talk about it any more."

He stood up, and his tone was defiant.

"You'd better take a walk, bub," commended the Duke, quietly. "I'm going
to nap for a little while. We may be up late to-night."

He picked up his hat and canted it over his face. "Get back here as
early as five o'clock," he said, from under its brim.

They were away in the farmer's carryall at that hour, after a supper of
bread-and-milk.

In the edge of the village of Burnside the Duke ordered a halt, and
stepped down from the carriage. The evening had settled in and it was
dark under the elms.

"Here's five dollars, brother. You've used us all right, and now so long
to you."

"But I hain't got you to nowhere yet!" protested the farmer. He had
finally decided in his own mind that these were railroad managers
planning projects, with an eye on his own farm. He wanted to carry them
where he could exhibit them to some one who could inform him.

But the Duke promptly drew Harlan along into the shadows, and a farmer
hampered with a two-seated carriage is not equipped for the trail. They
heard the complaining squeal of iron against iron as he turned to go
back home.

"We've come here to call on a man," stated the Duke, after they had
walked for a little time.

"On ex-Governor Waymouth, I suppose," Harlan suggested, quietly.

The old man chuckled.

"How long have you been suspecting that?"

"Ever since I heard Burnside mentioned, of course."

"Good! You guessed and kept still about it. You've got the makings of a
politician, and you are learning fast. Now what do you suppose I'm
sneaking up on Varden Waymouth in this way for?"

"You said I'd see for myself when the time came. I'm in no hurry,
grandfather."

The Duke patted Harlan's shoulder. "You're one of my kind, that's sure,
boy. I haven't got to put any patent time-lock onto your tongue. And I
can't say that of many chaps in this State. You're a safe man to have
along. Come on!"

The house was back from the street a bit--a modest mansion of brick,
dignifiedly old. Tall twin columns flanked the front door and supported
the roof of the porch. Harlan had never seen the residence of General
Waymouth before, but that exterior seemed fitted to the man, such as he
knew him to be.

He admitted them himself, when they had waited a few mom