our modern American jinglers are up to--talking
socialism or anarchy to get themselves talked about. If only they
wouldn't apply such insincere and half-digested theories to their art!
It's a little like modern popular music--criminal intervals and measures
against all the rules. But crime, you see, is invariably arresting. My
apologies to the fox-trot geniuses. They pretend to be nothing more than
clever mutilators; but the jinglers! They are great reformers. Bah! They
remind me of a naughty child who proudly displays the picture he has
torn into grotesque pieces, saying: 'Come quick, mother, and see what
smart little Aleck has done.' You'll have to try again, George."

George glanced up. His face was serious.

"Don't laugh at me. I mean it. Politics."

"At Princeton I wasn't bad at that," Wandel admitted, smiling
reminiscently. "But politics mixes a man with an unlovely crowd--uncouth
provincials, a lot of them, and some who are to all purposes foreigners.
Do you know, my dear George, that ability to read and write is essential
to occupying a seat in the United States Senate? I was amazed the other
day to hear it was so. You see how simple it is to misjudge."

"Then there's room," George laughed, "for more honest, well-educated,
well-bred Americans."

"Seems to me," Wandel drawled, "that a little broad-minded practicality
in our politics would be more useful than bovine honesty. I could
furnish that. How should I begin?"

"You might get a start in the State Department," George suggested,
"diplomacy, a secretaryship----"

"For once you're wrong," Wandel objected. "In this country diplomacy is
a destination rather than a route. The good jobs are frequently given
for services rendered, or men pay enormous sums for the privilege of
being taken for waiters at their own functions. To start at the
bottom----Oh, no. I don't possess the cerebral vacuity, and you can only
climb out of the service."

"Just the same," George laughed, "you'd make a tricky politician."

Wandel puffed thoughtfully.

"You're a far-seeing, a far-going person," he said. "You are bound to be
a very rich man. You'll want a few practical politicians. Isn't it so?
Never mind, but it's understood if I ever run for President or coroner
you'll back me with your money bags."

George glanced about the room, as striking and costly in its French
fashion as the green study had been.

"You have all the money you need," he said.

"But I'd be a rotte