"But the days do get short in November, when Congress meets, don't
they?" laughed Haines, rising. "I'm afraid I've taken too much of your
time, and I seem to have talked a lot."

Langdon was amused.

"Does look like I'd been interviewing you. I reckon each one of us has
got a pretty good notion of what the other man's like. I wanted it
that way, and I like you, Mr. Haines. I've got a proposition to make
to you. They tell me I'll need a secretary. Now, I think I need just
such a young man as you. I don't know just exactly what the work would
be or what the financial arrangements should be, but I think you and
I would make a pretty good team. I wish you'd come." He turned to his
daughter, with a smile. "What do you think of that, Hope Georgia?
Isn't your dad right?"

Smiling her approval, the young girl squeezed her father's hand in her
enthusiasm.

"I think it's a splendid idea, dad; just great! Won't you come, Mr.
Haines? We--eh--I--I know my father would like to have you."

As he stood before his two new-found friends--for such Haines now
considered the Mississippian and his daughter--he could not suppress
feelings of surprise tinged with uncertainty. He had, like other
newspaper men, received offers of employment from politicians who
desired to increase their influence with the press. Sometimes the
salary offered had been large, the work so light that the reporter
could "earn" the money and yet retain his newspaper position, a
scantily disguised species of bribery, which had wrecked the careers