the reporter good-evening
as she passed out. On a table in the middle of the room a checkerboard's
white and black belligerents stood at truce, and from the interrupted
game rose a thick-set man of medium height, with dark hair and a
close-trimmed mustache, who came toward him inquiringly.

"Good-evening. I am Mr. Bassett. Have a chair."

Harwood felt the guilt of his intrusion upon a scene so sheltered and
domestic. The father had evidently been playing checkers with his son;
the mother's chair still rocked by another table on which stood a
reading lamp.

Harwood stated his errand, and Bassett merely nodded, offering none of
those protestations of surprise and humility, those pleas of
unworthiness that his predecessors on Dan's list had usually insisted
upon. Dan made mental note at once of the figure before him. Bassett's
jaw was square and firm--power was manifest there, unmistakably, and
his bristling mustache suggested combativeness. His dark eyes met
Harwood's gaze steadily--hardness might be there, though their gaze was
friendly enough. His voice was deep and its tone was pleasant. He opened
a drawer and produced a box of cigars.

"Won't you smoke? I don't smoke myself, but you mustn't mind that." And
Harwood accepted a cigar, which he found excellent. A moment later a
maid placed on the table beside the checkerboard a tray, with a decanter
and glasses, and a pitcher of water.

"That's for us," remarked Bassett, nodding toward the glasses. "Help
yourself."

"The cigar is all I need; thank you."

The reporter was prepared to ask questions, following a routine he had
employed with other subjects, but Bassett began to talk on his own
initiative--of the town, the county, the district. He expressed himself
well, in terse words and phrases. Harwood did not attempt to direct or
lead: Bassett had taken the interview into his own hands, and was
imparting information that might have been derived from a local history
at the town library. Dan ceased, after a time, to follow the narrative
in his absorption in the man himself. Harwood took his politics
seriously and the petty politicians with whom he had thus far become
acquainted in his newspaper work had impressed him chiefly by their
bigotry or venality. It was not for nothing that he had worshiped at
Sumner's feet at Yale and he held views that were not readily
reconcilable with parochial boss-ships and the meek swallowing of
machine-made platforms. Bassett was n