n this 'people' idea, Harlan. The people are no good
without organization--and organization _is_ the party. I don't want to
discourage you, son. You'll see some opportunities where you can grab in
and turn a trick for the general good of all hands. But you can't dump
your friends. You've got to stand by your own party first. You do
anything else, and you'll simply get the reputation of being a kicker
and an insurgent. And then you can't spin a thread. Your own party
doesn't want you and the other side is afraid of you. _Ideals_ are
blasted good in their way, but in politics cut out the _I_ and attend to
the _deals_. It's the only way you'll get anywhere."

Harlan sat alone for a while and thought. Rebellion seethed in him. But
it was rebellion against something vague--protest that was more instinct
than actual understanding. He still lacked the prick of party
enthusiasm; party, as he had seen its operations, stood for some pretty
sordid actualities. One thing comforted him: he had not lost his faith
in General Waymouth. His grandfather's cynicism had not destroyed that.
He realized that his youth and his lack of experience would make him a
very humble cog in the legislative machinery. But he had youth and high
hopes, and his creed from boyhood had been to do everything that he had
to do resolutely and to the full measure of his ability.

When he looked at his watch he decided that he would not go to his
berth. The train would reach the State capital shortly after four in the
morning. He dozed in his seat, the grateful breath of the summer night
fanning his face through the screen. The Duke found him there, appearing
as he had departed, his coat on his arm, his collar in his hand. He was
full of the briskness of the dawn in spite of his short rations of
sleep.

"You mustn't think because you've found sins in the party that you've
been picked out for the atonement, boy," he chided, jocosely. "Get your
sleep--always get your sleep. I wouldn't have been alive to-day if I'd
been kept awake by worry and wonder."

A cab took their luggage to the hotel. They walked up the hill. It was
the old man's suggestion.

"It'll do us good. This air beats any cocktail you can get over Luke's
bar--and they serve as good a one as you'll get anywhere, even if this
is a prohibition State."

"Wasn't it Governor Waymouth who signed the first prohibition bill in
this State?" asked Harlan.

"Still dwelling on visions of reform, eh?" inqui