laughter.

"Then I guess there's no harm in confiding political secrets to you," he
said. "I've been around the State some this week, talking to people I
know, and I believe if your Austen wasn't so obstinate, we could make him
governor."

"Obstinate?" ejaculated Euphrasia.

"Yes," said Tom, with a twinkle in his eye, "obstinate. He doesn't seem
to want something that most men would give their souls for."

"And why should he dirty himself with politics?" she demanded. "In the
years I've lived with Hilary Vane I've seen enough of politicians,
goodness knows. I never want to see another."

"If Austen was governor, we'd change some of that. But mind, Euphrasia,
this is a secret," said Tom, raising a warning finger. "If Austen hears
about it now, the jig's up."

Euphrasia considered and thawed a little.

"They don't often have governors that young, do they?" she asked.

"No," said Tom, forcibly, "they don't. And so far as I know, they haven't
had such a governor for years as Austen would make. But he won't push
himself. You know, Euphrasia, I have always believed that he will be
President some day."

Euphrasia received this somewhat startling prediction complacently. She
had no doubt of its accuracy, but the enunciation of it raised young Tom
in her estimation, and incidentally brought her nearer her topic.

"Austen ain't himself lately," she remarked.

"I knew that he didn't get along with Hilary," said Tom, sympathetically,
beginning to realize now that Euphrasia had come to talk about her idol.

"It's Hilary doesn't get along with him," she retorted indignantly. "He's
responsible--not Austen. Of all the narrow, pig-headed, selfish men the
Lord ever created, Hilary Vane's the worst. It's Hilary drove him out of
his mother's house to live with strangers. It's Austen that comes around
to inquire for his father--Hilary never has a word to say about Austen."
A trace of colour actually rose under Euphrasia's sallow skin, and she
cast her eyes downward. "You've known him a good while, haven't you,
Tom?"

"All my life," said Tom, mystified again, "all my life. And I, think more
of him than of anybody else in the world."

"I calculated as much," she said; "that's why I came." She hesitated.
Artful Euphrasia! We will let the ingenuous Mr. Gaylord be the first to
mention this delicate matter, if possible. "Goodness knows, it ain't
Hilary I came to talk about. I had a notion that you'd know if anything
else was trou