eople, made by the People, and answerable to the People." After that
they went into the state library, where Wetherell was introduced to the
librarian, Mr. Storrow. They did not go into the State House because, as
everybody knows, Jethro Bass never went there. Mr. Bijah Bixby and other
lieutenants might be seen in the lobbies, and the governor might sign
bills in his own apartment there, but the real seat of government was
that Throne Room into which we have been permitted to enter.

They walked out beyond the outskirts of the town, where there was a
grove or picnic ground which was also used as a park by some of the
inhabitants. Jethro liked the spot, and was in the habit sometimes of
taking refuge there when the atmosphere of the Pelican House became too
thick. The three of them had sat down on one of the board benches to
rest, when presently two people were seen at a little distance walking
among the trees, and the sight of them, for some reason, seemed to give
Jethro infinite pleasure.

"Why," exclaimed Cynthia, "one of them is that horrid girl everybody was
looking at in the dining room last night."

"D-don't like her, Cynthy?" said Jethro.

"No," said Cynthia, "I don't."

"Pretty--hain't she--pretty?"

"She's brazen," declared Cynthia.

It was, indeed, Miss Cassandra Hopkins, daughter of that Honorable Alva
who--according to Mr. Bixby was all ready with a certain sum of money to
be the next governor. Miss Cassandra was arrayed fluffily in cool, pink
lawn, and she carried a fringed parasol, and she was gazing upward with
telling effect into the face of the gentleman by her side. This
would have all been very romantic if the gentleman had been young and
handsome, but he was certainly not a man to sweep a young girl off
her feet. He was tall, angular, though broad-shouldered, with a long,
scrawny neck that rose out of a very low collar, and a large head,
scantily covered with hair--a head that gave a physical as well as a
mental effect of hardness. His smooth-shaven face seemed to bear witness
that its owner was one who had pushed frugality to the borders of a
vice. It was not a pleasant face, but now it wore an almost benign
expression under the influence of Miss Cassandra's eyes. So intent,
apparently, were both of them upon each other that they did not notice
the group on the bench at the other side of the grove. William Wetherell
ventured to ask Jethro who the man was.

"N-name's Lovejoy," said Jethro.