Y
FOR A PAST DISCOURTESY

Part 1

Came James Farnum down Powers Avenue carrying with buoyant dignity the
manner of greatness that sat so well on him. His smile was warm for a
world that just now was treating him handsomely. There could be no doubt
that for a first term he was making an extraordinary success of his work
in the legislature. He had worked hard on committees and his speeches
had made a tremendous hit. Jeff had played him up strong in the world
too, so that he was becoming well known over the state. That he had
risen to leadership of the progressives in the House during his first
term showed his quality. His ambition vaulted. Now that his feet were
on the first rungs of the ladder it would be his own fault if he did not
reach the top.

His progress down the busy street was in the nature of an ovation.
Everywhere he met answering smiles that told of the people's pride in
their young champion. Already James had discovered that Americans
are eager for hero worship. He meant to be the hero of his state, the
favorite son it would delight to honor. This was what he loved: the
cheers for the victor, not the clash of the battle.

"Good morning, Farnum. What are the prospects?" It was Clinton Rogers,
of the big shipbuilding firm Harvey & Rogers, that stopped him now.

"Still anybody's fight, Mr. Rogers." The young lawyer's voice fell a
note to take on a frankly confidential tone, an accent of friendliness
that missed the fatal buttonholing familiarity of the professional
politician. "If we can hold our fellows together we'll win. But the
Transcontinental is bidding high for votes--and there's always a quitter
somewhere."

"Does Frome stand any chance?"

"It will be Hardy or Frome. The least break in our ranks will be the
signal for a stampede to P. C. The Republicans will support him when
they get the signal. It's all a question of our fellows standing pat."

"From what I can learn it won't be your fault if Hardy isn't elected. I
congratulate you on the best record ever made by a member in his first
term."

"Oh, we all do our best," James answered lightly. "But I'm grateful for
your good opinion. I hope I deserve it."

James could afford to be modest about his achievements so long as Jeff
was shouting his praises through the columns of the _World_ to a hundred
thousand readers of that paper. What the shipbuilder had said pleased
him mightily. For Clinton Rogers was one of the few substantial moneyed
m