t once, but Patty was
different. She was happy one moment, and troubled the next, not
knowing the reason. She was not analytical; there was no sophistry in
her young heart. She did not dream that this man loved her; she was
not vain enough for that.

John and Kate watched them approvingly. They knew the worth of the
man; they were not at all worried over what was past. They saw their
own romance tenderly reflected. Mrs. Bennington was utterly oblivious.
Mothers never realize that their daughters and sons must some day
leave them; they refuse to accept this natural law; they lament over
it to-day as they lamented in the days of the Old Testament. The truth
is, children are always children to the parents; paternal and maternal
authority believes its right indefinite.

By this time all the newspapers, save the Telegraph, had made readable
copy out of Warrington's candidacy. Why the Telegraph remained mute
was rather mystifying. Warrington saw the hand of McQuade in this. The
party papers had to defend the senator, but their defense was not so
strong as it might have been. Not a single sheet came out frankly for
Warrington. The young candidate smoked his pipe and said nothing, but
mentally he was rolling up his sleeves a little each day. He had not
yet pulled through the convention. Strong as the senator was, there
might yet be a hitch in the final adjustment. So far nothing had come
of Bolles' trip to New York. Occasionally newspapers from the nearby
towns fell into Warrington's hands. These spoke of his candidacy in
the highest terms, and belabored the editors of Herculaneum for not
accepting such a good chance of ridding itself of McQuadeism.

Meantime, there was fishing, long trips into the heart of the forests,
dancing at the hotel at the head of the lake, billiards and music.
Warrington was already deeply tanned, and Patty's nose was liberally
sprinkled with golden freckles.

One evening Kate and John sat on the veranda from where they could
easily watch Warrington and Patty in the music-room.

"What do you think of it, John?"

"There's not a finer chap in the world. But I don't think Patty
realizes yet."

"Dear Patty!" Kate reached over and took his hand in hers, laying it
against her cold cheek. "What is it, John? You have been worried all
day."

"Nothing; nothing to bother you with."

"The shops? It worries me when you don't confide in me in everything."

"Well, dear, the trouble I've been expecting fo