and delicate tracings of gold on brown and scarlet and olive could so
delight him. His rather jaunty attitude toward the "Home Life of Hoosier
Statesmen" experienced a change. Morton Bassett was not a man who could
be hit off in a few hundred words, but a complex character he did not
pretend to understand. Threads of various hues had passed before him,
but how to intertwine them was a question that already puzzled the
reporter. Bassett had rested his hand on Dan's shoulder for a moment as
the younger man bent over one of the prized volumes, and Dan was not
insensible to the friendliness of the act.

Mrs. Bassett and the two children appeared at the door a little later.

"Come in, Hallie," said the politician; "all of you come in."

He introduced the reporter to his wife and to Marian, the daughter, and
Blackford, the son.

"The children were just going up," said Mrs. Bassett. "As it's Saturday
they have an hour added to their evening. I think I heard Mr. Bassett
talking of books a moment ago. It's not often he brings out his first
editions for a visitor."

They talked of books for a moment, while the children listened. Then
Bassett recurred to the fact, already elicited, that Harwood was a Yale
man, whereupon colleges were discussed.

"Many of our small fresh-water colleges do excellent work," remarked
Bassett. "Some educator has explained the difference between large and
small colleges by saying that in the large one the boy goes through more
college, but in the small one more college goes through the boy. Of