red his grandfather,
smiling broadly. He did not reply immediately. He stepped ahead, for
they were obliged to walk in single file past a man who was sweeping
sawdust across the sidewalk. In the windows that flanked the open doors
of his shop dusty cigar boxes were piled. The shelves within were empty.
Harlan recognized the nature of the establishment. It was a grog-shop in
its partial disguise. He got the odor of stale liquors from the open
door as he passed.

"I was present when he signed it," said the Duke, as soon as they were
walking side by side once more. "Something had to be done politically
with the Washingtonian movement, you know; it had cut the cranks out of
the main herd. You'd think, nowadays, to hear some of the things that
are said about conditions in the old times, that every man in this State
picked up his rum-bottle and pipe and threw 'em to Tophet and got onto
the wagon. You weren't born then. Let me tell you how it really
happened. It was mostly politics. The disorganized mob of
prohibitionists didn't do it--it was our party. We needed the cranks to
swing the balance of power. They were all herded, ready to follow the
bell. Needed a shepherd. Didn't know which one of the old parties to run
to. It's a crime in politics not to grab in a bunch of the unbranded
when it's that size. We put prohibition into the platform and carried
the election. Then the boys went to the Governor and told him,
privately, that they really didn't mean it, and framed it up that they'd
pass the bill in the legislature all right and then he'd veto it--and
the party would be saved, and he wouldn't be hurt, because every one
knew that he couldn't be accused of acting in the interests of the
rumsellers, but only stood on the constitutional law ground--and there
was great talk those days, son, of personal liberty and inherent rights.
But Vard picked up his pen and told us he wasn't much of a hand for
playing practical jokes on the people. He signed it. And he was a
license man, at that, those days. Guess he is now."

"I don't see how you can say he has played politics--not after he stood
out like that."

Thelismer Thornton laughed silently. They were half-way up the long
hill. The bland morning was already growing warm. The old man stopped
for a moment, hat off, under a dewy maple.

"Bub, do you think Vard Waymouth, lawyer that he is, didn't know just
about how much that act would amount to after it got to operating? About
al