They drew rein at the end of the bridge.

"It's only a bit of a run for you now, little girl. I'll keep on home."

She put her hand out to him and held him for a moment.

"I'm afraid you'll go away to be a big man, after all, Harlan," she
said, dolefully.

"Go in this way? What are you talking about, child?" he demanded,
choking, his fury getting possession of him. "I've been
disgraced--abused. I'll--but I mustn't talk to you now--the wicked words
might slip out."

But she would not loose his hand just then.

"I sent for you to come home because I heard father say that politics is
wicked business. But I didn't know it was as wicked as this. It's no
wonder they can't get the good men like you to go into it. If they could
it would be better, wouldn't it?"

Even in his distress it occurred to him that out of the mouth of this
child was proceeding quaint and unconscious wisdom.

"I wish it wasn't wicked," she went on, wistfully. "I've been thinking
as I rode along that I've been selfish. I'd like to see you a big man
like some of those I've read about. It was selfish of me to say I didn't
want you to get out of the woods and be a big man."

"I couldn't be one," he protested.