in't goin' to do without 'em," he chuckled. "Obed Nye--he's
chairman of the Trumet committee--figgers you'll have a five-to-one
majority. He told me to practice callin' you 'the Honorable' because
that's what you'd be by Tuesday night of week after next. And next
winter Mother and I will be takin' a trip to Washin'ton so as to set
in the gallery and listen to you makin' speeches. We'll be some
consider'ble proud of you, too, boy," he added, with a nod.

His grandson looked away, out of the window, over the bleak yard with
its piles of lumber. The voice of Issacher raised in expostulation with
the driver of Cahoon's "truck-wagon" could be faintly heard.

"I shall hate to leave you and Grandmother and the old place," he said.
"If I am elected--"

"WHEN you're elected; there isn't any 'if.'"

"Well, all right. I shall hate to leave South Harniss. Every person I
really care for will be here. Helen--and you people at home."

"It's too bad you and Helen can't be married and go to Washin'ton
together. Not to stay permanent," he added quickly, "but just while
Congress is in session. Your grandma says then she'd feel as if you had
somebody to look after you. She always figgers, you know, that a man
ain't capable of lookin' out for himself. There'd ought to be at least
one woman to take care of him, see that he don't get his feet wet and
goes to meetin' reg'lar and so on; if there could be two, so much the
better. Mother would have made a pretty good Mormon, in some ways."

Albert laughed. "Helen feels she must stay with her father for the
present," he said. "Of course she is right. Perhaps by and by we can
find some good capable housekeeper to share the responsibility, but not
this winter. IF I am sent to Washington I shall come back often, you may
be sure."

"When ARE you cal'latin' to be married, if that ain't a secret?"

"Perhaps next spring. Certainly next fall. It will depend upon Mr.
Kendall's health. But, Grandfather, I do feel rather like a deserter,
going off and leaving you here--"

"Good Lord! You don't cal'late I'M breakin' down, runnin' strong to talk
and weakenin' everywhere else, like old Minister Kendall, do you?"

"Well, hardly. But . . . well, you see, I have felt a little ungrateful
ever since I came back from the war. In a way I am sorry that I feel I
must give myself entirely to my writing--and my political work. I wish
I might have gone on here in this office, accepted that partnership you
would