endship. The direct
assault was unsuccessful,--I understood it, and I was in no need of
lieutenants. More than I could easily take care of were already striving
to serve me, scores of the brightest, most ambitious young men of the
state eager to do my bidding, whatever it might be, in the hope that in
return I would "take care of" them, would admit them to the coveted
inclosure round the plum tree. The plum tree! Is there any kind of fruit
which gladdens the eyes of ambitious man, that does not glisten upon
some one of its many boughs, heavy-laden with corporate and public
honors and wealth?

Burbank's indirect attack, through his wife and Carlotta, fared better.

The first of it I distinctly recall was after a children's party at our
house. Carlotta singled out Mrs. Burbank for enthusiastic commendation.
"The other women sent nurses with their children," said she, "but Mrs.
Burbank came herself. She was so sweet in apologizing for coming. She
said she hadn't any nurse, and that she was so timid about her children
that she never could bring herself to trust them to nurses. And really,
Harvey, you don't know how nice she was all the afternoon. She's the
kind of mother I approve of, the kind I try to be. Don't you admire
her?"

"I don't know her," said I. "The only time I met her she struck me as
being--well, rather silent."

"That's it," she exclaimed triumphantly. "She doesn't care a rap for
men. She's absorbed in her children and her husband." Then, after a
pause, she added: "Well, she's welcome to him. I can't see what she
finds to care for."

"Why?" said I.

"Oh, he's distinguished-looking, and polite, offensively polite to
women--he doesn't understand them at all--thinks they like deference and
flattery, the low-grade molasses kind of flattery. He has a very nice
smile. But he's so stilted and tiresome, always serious,--and such a
pose! It's what I call the presidential pose. No doubt he'll be
President some day."

"Why?" said I. It is amusing to watch a woman fumble about for reasons
for her intuitions.

Carlotta did uncommonly well. "Oh, I don't know. He's the sort of
high-average American that the people go crazy about. He--he--_looks_
like a President, that sort of--solemn--no-sense-of-humor, _Sunday_
look,--you know what I mean. Anyhow, he's going to be President."

I thought not. A few days later, while what Carlotta had said was fresh
in my mind, he overtook me walking to the capitol. As we went o