suddenly recalled him to
mundane things.

"Hello, there Harry," said the voice.

It was Grogan's.

"Hello," replied Harry, roused but not displeased to meet his father's
intimate political adviser in this part of the world, "what are you doing
in this part of Illinois?"

"I'm on my way home," replied Grogan, laconically.

"Ah, yes, Dad wrote me. You went to Kansas City, didn't you?"

"I did. Your father caught me on the wire at St. Louis."

"What did the governor want?"

"Nothing much. He told me you were here and suggested that I meet you. He
thought it would be pleasant for us both to have company home."

It dawned on Harry that perhaps his father had not been quite
disinterested in this.

"You're a good politician, Mike," he said shortly.

"Is that a compliment now, or a slander against my character?" Grogan
demanded, smiling.

"Neither," replied Harry. "It's a fact."

"And why, might I ask, have you recalled it at this particular moment?"

"Because your conversation in this particular instance seemed to me to be
that of a person who was concealing something. Politician's talk, Grogan,
is specious, but notable for its reticence."

"Well, Harry," returned Grogan, "your own line of talk is not
particularly illuminating, either."

"What do you mean, Mike?"

"Well, here I am, an old friend of your father's, mixed up with him in
half a dozen deals. I've known you ever since you sat in a high chair and
spooned gruel from a bowl. I come on you in this out of the way corner
and you say never a word of why you're here, or what you're doing. I
think Clam is your middle name."

"Why," replied Harry, "I came down to Millville to collect some rents."

"Only rents?" queried Grogan pointedly.

"What the devil do you mean?"

"Youngsters of your age sometimes amuse themselves
collecting--shirtwaists."

"Stop that, Grogan," retorted Harry angrily.

"Stop what, me boy?"

"I don't like that sort of insinuation."

"Ho," said Grogan, "angry, eh? Then it's as I thought. There's always
fire in the heart when a young man flares up about a girl."

"Look here, Grogan--"

"Easy, boy," interrupted the older man. "I'm your friend and I don't want
to see you get into trouble--with your father, I mean."

"Did he send you to spy on me?" demanded Harry hotly.

"Not at all," returned Grogan suavely, "only he's worried."

"Worried, what the devil about?"

Grogan did not reply.

"I know I've overstayed my time,