y needs, otherwise it's at the
mercy of demagogues who play fast and loose with the prejudice and
ignorance of the mob. The people don't value the vote, they know nothing
about the real problems. So far as I can see, they are as easily swayed
to-day as the crowd that listened to Mark Antony's oration about Caesar.
You've seen how we have to handle them, in this election and--in other
matters. It isn't a pleasant practice, something we'd indulge in out of
choice, but the alternative is unthinkable. We'd have chaos in no time.
We've just got to keep hold, you understand--we can't leave it to the
irresponsible."

"Yes," I said. In this mood he was more impressive than I had ever known
him, and his confidence flattered and thrilled me.

"In the meantime, we're criminals," he continued. "From now on we'll have
to stand more and more denunciation from the visionaries, the
dissatisfied, the trouble makers. We may as well make up our minds to it.
But we've got something on our side worth fighting for, and the man who
is able to make that clear will be great."

"But you--you are going to the Senate," I reminded him.

He shook his head.

"The time has not yet come," he said. "Confusion and misunderstanding
must increase before they can diminish. But I have hopes of you, Hugh, or
I shouldn't have spoken. I shan't be here now--of course I'll keep in
touch with you. I wanted to be sure that you had the right view of this
thing."

"I see it now," I said. "I had thought of it, but never--never as a
whole--not in the large sense in which you have expressed it." To attempt
to acknowledge or deprecate the compliment he had paid me was impossible;
I felt that he must have read my gratitude and appreciation in my manner.

"I mustn't keep you up until morning." He glanced at the clock, and went
with me through the hall into the open air. A meteor darted through the
November night. "We're like that," he observed, staring after it, a
"flash across the darkness, and we're gone."

"Only--there are many who haven't the satisfaction of a flash," I was
moved to reply.

He laughed and put his hand on my shoulder as he bade me good night.

"Hugh, you ought to get married. I'll have to find a nice girl for you,"
he said. With an elation not unmingled with awe I made my way homeward.

Theodore Watling had given me a creed.

A week or so after the election I received a letter from George Hutchins
asking me to come to Elkington. I shall no