"That"s all right. Of course I don"t like to think she is being talked about."
"The Cardews are always being talked about. You couldn"t drop her a hint, I suppose?"
"She knows what I think about Louis Akers."
He made a violent effort and pulled himself together. "So it is Akers and Howard Cardew, and one"s a knave and one"s a poor bet."
"Right," said Mr. Hendricks. "And one"s Bolshevist, if I know anything, and the other is capital, and has about as much chance as a rich man to get through the eye of a needle."
Which was slightly mixed, owing to a repressed excitement now making itself evident in Mr. Hendricks"s voice.
"Why not run an independent candidate?" w.i.l.l.y Cameron asked quietly.
"I"ve been shouting about the plain people. Why shouldn"t they elect a mayor? There is a lot of them."
"That"s the talk," said Mr. Hendricks, letting his excitement have full sway. "They could. They could run this town and run it right, if they"d take the trouble. Now look here, son, I don"t usually talk about myself, but--I"m honest. I don"t say I wouldn"t get off a street-car without paying my fare if the conductor didn"t lift it! But I"m honest. I don"t lie. I keep my word. And I live clean--which you can"t say for Lou Akers. Why shouldn"t I run on an independent ticket? I mightn"t be elected, but I"d make a d.a.m.ned good try."
He stood up, and w.i.l.l.y Cameron rose also and held out his hand.
"I don"t know that my opinion is of any value, Mr. Hendricks. But I hope you get it, and I think you have a good chance. If I can do anything--"
"Do anything! What do you suppose I came here for? You"re going to elect me. You"re going to make speeches and kiss babies, and tell the ordinary folks they"re worth something after all. You got me started on this thing, and now you"ve got to help me out."
The future maker of mayors here stepped back in his amazement, and Jinx emitted a piercing howl. When peace was restored the F.M. of M. had got his breath, and he said:
"I couldn"t remember my own name before an audience, Mr. Hendricks."
"You"re fluent enough in that back room of yours."
"That"s different."
"The people we"re going after don"t want oratory. They want good, straight talk, and a fellow behind it who doesn"t believe the country"s headed straight for perdition. We"ve had enough calamity bowlers. You"ve got the way out. The plain people. The hope of the nation. And, by G.o.d, you love your country, and not for what you can get out of it. That"s a thing a fellow"s got to have inside him. He can"t pretend it and get it over."
In the end the F.M. of M. capitulated.
It was late when Mr. Hendricks left. He went away with all the old envelopes in his pockets covered with memoranda.
"Just wait a minute, son," he would say. "I"ve got to make some speeches myself. Repeat that, now. "Sins of omission are as great, even greater than sins of commission. The lethargic citizen throws open the gates to revolution." How do you spell "lethargic"?"
But it was not Hendricks and his campaign that kept the F.M. of M. awake until dawn. He sat in front of his soft coal fire, and when it died to gray-white ash he still sat there, unconscious of the chill of the spring night. Mostly he thought of Lily, and of Louis Akers, big and handsome, of his insolent eyes and his self-indulgent mouth. Into that curious whirlpool that is the mind came now and then other visions: His mother asleep in her chair; the men in the War Department who had turned him down; a girl at home who had loved him, and made him feel desperately unhappy because he could not love her in return. Was love always like that? If it was what He intended, why was it so often without reciprocation?
He took to walking about the room, according to his old habit, and obediently Jinx followed him.
It was four by his alarm clock when Edith knocked at his door. She was in a wrapper flung over her nightgown, and with her hair flying loose she looked childish and very small.
"I wish you would go to bed," she said, rather petulantly. "Are you sick, or anything?"
"I was thinking, Edith. I"m sorry. I"ll go at once. Why aren"t you asleep?"
"I don"t sleep much lately." Their voices were cautious. "I never go to sleep until you"re settled down, anyhow."
"Why not? Am I noisy?"
"It"s not that."
She went away, a drooping, listless figure that climbed the stairs slowly and left him in the doorway, puzzled and uncomfortable.
At six that morning Dan, tip-toeing downstairs to warm his left-over coffee and get his own breakfast, heard a voice from w.i.l.l.y Cameron"s room, and opened the door. w.i.l.l.y Cameron was sitting up in bed with his eyes closed and his arms extended, and was concluding a speech to a dream audience in deep and oratorical tones.
"By G.o.d, it is time the plain people know their power."
Dan grinned, and, his ideas of humor being rather primitive, he edged his way into the room and filled the orator"s sponge with icy water from the pitcher.
"All right, old top," he said, "but it is also time the plain people got up."
Then he flung the sponge and departed with extreme expedition.
CHAPTER XVI
It was not until a week had pa.s.sed after Louis Akers" visit to the house that Lily"s family learned of it.
Lily"s state of mind during that week had been an unhappy one. She magnified the incident until her nerves were on edge, and Grace, finding her alternating between almost demonstrative affection and strange aloofness, was bewildered and hurt. Mademoiselle watched her secretly, shook her head, and set herself to work to find out what was wrong. It was, in the end, Mademoiselle who precipitated the crisis.
Lily had not intended to make a secret of the visit, but as time went on she found it increasingly difficult to tell about it. She should, she knew, have spoken at once, and it would be hard to explain why she had delayed.
She meant to go to her father with it. It was he who had forbidden her to see Akers, for one thing. And she felt nearer to her father than to her mother, always. Since her return she had developed an almost pa.s.sionate admiration for Howard, founded perhaps on her grandfather"s att.i.tude toward him. She was strongly partizan, and she watched her father, day after day, fighting his eternal battles with Anthony, sometimes winning, often losing, but standing for a principle like a rock while the seas of old Anthony"s wrath washed over and often engulfed him.
She was rather wistful those days, struggling with her own perplexities, and blindly reaching out for a hand to help her. But she could not bring herself to confession. She would wander into her father"s dressing-room before she went to bed, and, sitting on the arm of his deep chair, would try indirectly to get him to solve the problems that were troubling her. But he was inarticulate and rather shy with her. He had difficulty, sometimes, after her long absence at school and camp, in realizing her as the little girl who had once begged for his neckties to make into doll frocks.
Once she said:
"Could you love a person you didn"t entirely respect, father?"
"Love is founded on respect, Lily."
She pondered that. She felt that he was wrong.
"But it does happen, doesn"t it?" she had persisted.
He had been accustomed to her searchings for interesting abstractions for years. She used to talk about religion in the same way. So he smiled and said:
"There is a sort of infatuation that is based on something quite different."
"On what?"
But he had rather floundered there. He could not discuss physical attraction with her.