ap who writes for the
'Kickers' Column' in the newspapers can tell you all about how politics
should be run, but that's the only privilege he ever gets. It's the chap
who keeps still and runs the politics that gets what's to be got out of
it. And that's because mankind wants what it wants, and not what it says
it wants."

He went to the window, snapped up the shade, and let the morning light
flood the room.

"Wake up, my boys! Dreams are rosy--I've had 'em myself. But they don't
buy the breakfast next morning. Martyrs get a devil of a reputation
after they're dead. It doesn't do 'em a mite of good, not as human
beings. As long as you're taking the curse that belongs with a human
being, get some of the good, too. I tried to operate on a different plan
long ago--about the time I had the dreams--but I had to give it up if I
was to get anything out of life. Vard Waymouth can't build over the
human nature in this State. I've had to drop him. I hadn't realized he
was in such a bad way. Get aboard with the winners this trip! Then at
least you can be in the swim--you can find some good to do on the side,
and be able to do it. But you won't amount to anything sitting on the
bank and bellowing."

The vigils of the night had fortified their faith, the loyalty of youth
was in them, and they were the disciples of one who had enlisted their
enthusiasm. Linton, however, was less assertive than Harlan. The Duke
did not lose his patience.

"Boys," he said, at the end of his exhortations, "I see that you've got
to have your little lesson (I'll have to be going now, for I've a few
things to attend to), and I'll tell you frankly I propose to make that
lesson a lasting one."

A few hours later the young men went in to breakfast together. The early
trains had brought other delegates and visitors. The great room was
crowded with a chattering throng. The head waiter intercepted them; he
seemed to be waiting for them. They followed obediently, and he led them
to an alcove.

Here a breakfast-party was already installed.

Miss Presson was first to greet them, giving a hand to each--radiant,
fresh, and altogether charming in her tailored perfection.

"We left word at the door," she smiled, "for I wanted to behold you
before the blood and dust of the arena settled over all."

Mrs. Presson and her ladies were cordial. They did not seem to remark
that the State chairman kept his seat and was brusque in his greeting.
Political abstraction