the polite blunderings of a gentleman who was so engaged in considering
himself that he had neither time nor eyes for any other! Richard swore
roundly in mental fashion at his contrary fate. And yet he saw no way to
better the situation; and perforce, for this morning at least, he was
driven to push the bell of the veranda door. He might have gone about
the ceremony with more cheer had he known how he was to gain an ally in
his troubles; one, moreover, whose aid was sure to prove effective.

As Senator Hanway's black messenger ushered Richard into that
statesman's study, the radiant Dorothy, perched at the end of Senator
Hanway's table, was the picture that greeted his eyes. Our radiant one
sought to stifle her effulgence beneath a look severe and practical.
This expression of practical severity was a failure, and served to
render her more dazzling.

"I have made up my mind," quoth Dorothy, the moment Richard was inside
the door, and speaking in the loud, dead-level monotone which she
conceived to be the voice for business conversations as against the
giggling, gurgling ups and downs of conversations purely social, "I have
made up my mind to come in every morning and help Uncle Pat. I'm tired
of being a useless encumbrance."

Delivering which, Dorothy wore the resolved manner of a new Joan of Arc
who had come seeking fields of politics rather than those of war.

"And I have been of use to you, haven't I, Uncle Pat?" demanded Dorothy.

"Of measureless use, dear," said Senator Hanway. Then, turning to his
secretary, who had taken a score of letters shorthand and was about to
seek his own quarters and run them off upon the typewriter: "Have those