THE DUKE'S DOUBLE CAMPAIGN
Presson came in with the Duke at eight o'clock, bringing cordial morning
greetings to Harlan's room.
The old man found his grandson much improved, both in spirits and garb.
In his fresh, cool, summer gray, erect, stalwart, and clear-eyed, he won
a grunt of approval from his mentor.
"There's nothing like being young, Luke! I was just telling you that the
boy was getting into the dumps--bound to study all the seams before he
put the coat on. But the world looks better now, doesn't it, son?"
"It's the fit of the coat that counts in politics," observed the
chairman, sagely. "And the one that was built last night fits like the
paper on the wall. Don't bother with the seams, Harlan. The lining
covers 'em."
"Presson likes the frame-up, Harlan," said the Duke, smiling broadly.
"He isn't even jealous because I thought of it first."
"Who else could have pulled it off as you have, Thelismer? It would take
more than straight politics to get Vard Waymouth out of his den. And I
could have offered only politics."
With an arm about each he pushed them to the door, saying that his wife
and daughter were waiting below. When Harlan turned from his respectful
greeting of the mother, whom he knew, he found Miss Presson looking at
him with frank and smiling interest. He had heard vague reports that
Madeleine Presson had blossomed into beautiful womanhood since he had
seen her. He had been prepared to meet a rather vain and pampered young
lady, conscious of her charms and attainments. He assumed a bit of
reserve as armor for his sensitiveness. But this attitude responded so
ill to her good-humored ease in renewing their acquaintanceship that he
was momentarily embarrassed, remembering what he had said to his
grandfather a few hours before.
"I think I have a most distinct recollection of Mr. Harlan Thornton.
When I was ten years old you brought me some lumps of spruce-gum in a
birch-bark box and I declined it, saying that young ladies did not chew
gum. But I took it when you looked so sad, and I carried it away to
boarding-school, and I found out that young ladies do chew gum--when no
one is watching them. That gift made me very popular, sir, and now I
thank you. I fear I did not thank you then."
"It's worth waiting all this time to hear you say that. I'm glad the
gift found appreciation, for I culled the winter pickings of a whole
logging crew for those red nuggets. I've been so distrustful of my good
taste ever since that I've never dared to give anything to a young
lady."
"I'm afraid you didn't realize what you were doing when you snubbed
him," put in the Duke. "I haven't been able to get him out of the woods
since--till now, and I've had to bring him almost by main force."
The carriage was at the door. The State chairman led the way to it. He
had a home for his family apart from the big hotel, the mammoth hostelry
of the State--one of his many business ventures.
"We are on our way home from our morning ride--it's the real jolly part
of the June day, the two hours before breakfast," explained the girl, as
they went down the steps. "When we called here for father you may
imagine how delighted we were to find your grandfather. I know you
understand, Mr. Harlan Thornton, what a dear old man your grandfather
is!"
"He has been mother, father, brother, and sister and best friend--all
those to me. He has seemed to have some of the elements of all.
"I know of the good things he has done, and how ungrateful some of the
folks are he has helped. Your grandfather would be a real saint if it
were not for politics. You know we folks at the State capital hear
politics talked all the time. I suppose my good father has the same
wicked things said about him--though, of course, I don't hear them."
"And I've been too deep in the woods to hear."
Presson ushered his wife and the young people into the carriage.
"Thelismer and I would rather walk," he said. "We have some more matters
to talk over." And he sent them away.
Harlan took his seat opposite the ladies, and now, in this close
proximity, he realized how charming the young girl was. From the close
braids of her brown hair to the tips of her bronze shoes she was womanly
grace and refinement personified. There was a cordial frankness in her
tone and eyes that attracted him, and put him at his ease. Yet there was
no hint of coquetry. He liked her at once and instinctively, because
somehow she seemed to meet him on a manly plane of good-fellowship--and
yet she was so thoroughly and deliciously feminine. There was just a bit
of a drawl in her voice, a suggestion of jocoseness, continual
appreciation of the humor of life and living. And her laugh was an
inspiration.
He was a little surprised at himself when he found that he was chatting
with her so easily. Later, when he reflected, he understood. She had
almost a masculine breadth of view in addition to her culture. In that
first day of their meeting she gave voice to some of his own unexpressed
views regarding the trend of the times in public matters. She
apologized, half-humorously. "But as I said to you a while ago, we hear
politics talked much at the State capital."
Following the after-breakfast chat, he walked back to the hotel with his
grandfather.
"By-the-way, I didn't lie to you any about Luke's girl, did I?" remarked
the old man, casually, and as though the matter had occurred to him in
default of better topic. "But she's too advanced in her ideas for a
woman. She'll be suffragette-ing it next."
When Harlan began to defend the right of women to interest themselves in
the larger affairs, only a twinkle in the Duke's eye betrayed his
amusement. If Harlan, in his first quick suspicions, had secretly
accused his grandfather of planning a matrimonial campaign in
conjunction with his political one, he was now ashamed of those
suspicions, for they concerned Madeleine Presson. Having met her, he
realized that if he should dare to connect her in his thoughts with
anything that his grandfather might be scheming he was making of himself
a very presumptuous and silly ass. Now that he had seen her, now when he
was spending days of waiting at the State capital and seeing her
frequently, he found that Madeleine Presson's personality eliminated
possible matchmakers. He felt very humble in her presence--and still
ashamed. He had never taken stock of his own deficiencies very
particularly. His environment had not prompted it. He had been superior
to the men he had ruled. He realized now that the little amenities of
life which make for poise and ease must be lived, not simply learned.
In taking thought lest he err he found himself proceeding awkwardly. His
training in the past had led him to set work and achievement ahead of
all the rest. He understood now that those essentials in a life that is
to yield the most appear better as superstructure. Mere achievement may
attract respect. Erected on culture, it wins still more. Respect feeds
only one appetite of ambition. True ambition is hungry for affection and
friends, placing lovers ahead of sycophants. And the finer qualities,
the softer virtues, attract more surely than mere fame.
These and similar reflections came to young Thornton rather
incoherently. It was not that he desired the affection or the admiration
of Madeleine Presson. But this young woman represented for him a new
phase of the world he was meeting in its broader sense--and he was
ambitious with the zest of youth. Often he was obliged to spur himself
out of diffidence in her serene presence. At other times she put him at
his ease with a tact which made him realize his own shortcomings. And
under those circumstances ambition droops like a plant in a drought.
He had time to think during the two weeks he was at the State capital
waiting for the big convention. His grandfather made no demands upon
him.
Thelismer Thornton had quietly appointed himself the dominant figure in
the back room at State headquarters. Under his big hand all the strings
met. Even Luke Presson took subordinate post as a lieutenant.
The Duke of Fort Canibas _knew_ that he was in control.
The Hon. David Everett _believed_ that _he_ was. Thornton blandly
cultivated that belief in Everett. When Everett talked he listened. When
Everett counselled he agreed. He invited all the confidence of that
gentleman; he made sure that "the logical candidate" used him as
repository of all his political secrets; he was careful to assure
himself that Everett's strength was entirely in his hands and under his
control--for he intended to shatter that strength so instantly, so
thoroughly, that not one fragment would be left to hamper his own plans.
And yet day by day, word by word, hint by hint--his eye on the future
loyalty of the Everett faction at the polls--he made the candidate
understand that Arba Spinney was a man to be reckoned with--that the
convention was not an open-and-shut certainty for the machine. Without
realizing how it had come about, Everett found himself discussing
"political exigencies." Without knowing that he had been selected as a
martyr for his party, he committed himself in lofty sentiments regarding
the duty of a man in a crisis. Not that he suspected that his chances
were endangered. He felt that he was truly the man of destiny; he was
urging other men to forget their slights and their disappointments and
rally to him. But the fact remained that--thinking wholly of other
men--he had committed himself, and in a way that he could be reminded of
when the time came.
The Duke planted that kedge well out, to serve in the stress of weather
at the polls in the fall, should Everett and his men be silly enough to
confound "party exigency" with treachery.
All men are forgetful. The Duke feared that some men had forgotten the
details of Gen. Varden Waymouth's notable life. The publicity bureau,
obeying crafty suggestions and not understanding just what it was all
about, began in the stress of that campaign to recall stories of the old
days. And no man represented the old days as did Varden Waymouth, hero,
scholar, and statesman. There were giants in the old days, and every
machine newspaper in the State hailed General Waymouth as chief of the
giants. They contrasted the present with the past. General Waymouth's
picture gazed forth in stately benignity from every broadside--his life
story filled the columns of newspapers and the mouths of men.
With Arba Spinney's activities Thornton was in touch at all times. More
than ever before Mr. Spinney merited his title "Fog-horn." He was
striking the high places in the State, pouring language from under the
mat of his mustache, warning all men off the political shoals of "the
machine." From those shoals he was scooping up mud in both hands, and
spattering all men and all measures. He found plenty of listeners, for
protest was abroad. But the persistent defamer irritates even his
friends. He offends the innate sense of patriotism and loyalty which
slinks even in the breast of the rebel. The Duke noted with satisfaction
the outward symptoms of Mr. Spinney's campaign; he was winning a
following in those days of unrest. Through the columns of his newspapers
the old politician exploited Mr. Spinney, seeing to it that he was well
advertised as a man who persistently branded his own State as a den of
infamy. Thus he made Spinney strong enough to play against Everett and
weak enough to fall far in the estimation of men when the time came for
him to fall.
And then at last, in the latter days of June, all roads led to Rome. The
Republican Convention was called for the twenty-eighth, in the big hall
of the State's metropolis.
On the day before, Thelismer Thornton emerged from the back room of
headquarters at the State capital, and with Chairman Presson and Harlan
journeyed to the scene of the conflict. Before their departure the Duke
had been obliged, smilingly, to refuse a request of Mrs. Presson's.
She had asked that young Mr. Thornton be delegated as squire of dames to
accompany herself and her party to the convention.
"I'm afraid you haven't realized for a week or so that the boy is in
politics, Lucretia. I've let him run to pasture with a pretty long cord
on him. He'll have to come in under the saddle now. We'll have one of
the young beaus from the Governor's staff on the lookout for you at the
hall. This fellow here"--he patted Harlan's arm--"he hasn't been broken
to the society bridle yet. He was allowing to me the other day that he
didn't propose to be, either."
Miss Presson had overheard.
Harlan, remembering, flashed a glance of rebuke and anger at the old
man. It was a shock to him to have his own sentiments thrust back at him
in that manner.
"We haven't found Mr. Harlan ungallant," protested Mrs. Presson. She
treated the matter in jest, though the young man's face did not indicate
that he especially appreciated the humor.
"Oh, he's probably just been playing 'possum--practising dissimulation,
getting used to being a politician! You be watching out, Lucretia. He'll
forget himself and make a bolt pretty soon. The test of the thing will
be in seeing whether he holds out or not!"
In his indignation, Harlan was too confused just then to grasp the fact
that his tormentor was craftily handing him over to the Presson
womenfolk, bound, branded, and supple--unless he proposed to merit his
grandfather's label in their estimation.
"Now, look here, grandfather"--he began, wrathfully; but the Duke pulled
him away, drowning his protests in a laugh.
"You have placed me in a ridiculous position, and that's a mighty mild
way to put it," complained the indignant victim, when they were outside.
"I don't understand, grandfather, why you do something to me every now
and then that knocks all the props out from under me. It isn't
decent--it's vulgar--it's shameful, the way you do some things!"
"Operate in a queer way, do I?" inquired the old man, blandly.
"You certainly do."
"Did you ever stop to think, boy, that human nature is a queer thing?"
"Whose human nature are you referring to--yours or mine?"
"You know what the old Quaker said to his wife: 'All the world's queer,
dear, except thee and me--and thee's a little queer!'"
The angry young man would have liked to get a little more light on the
question, but Chairman Presson was ready for them and hustled them into
the carriage. And on the ride to the station, during the journey by
train, at the convention city, there were other matters uppermost
besides a young man's pique.