“He is a politician. And politicians have long memories. You seem to forget that I was chairman of the reception committee when Douglas spoke here in Ideala last year. My request would be refused; even if it chanced to pass the red-tape barriers and reach the President. “Moreover, I would not do such a thing as to send an old man into the ardors of a campaign. Even such a short campaign as this, from all the surface evidence, will very likely be.” “I am not an old man. Zach Taylor won the Mexican war when he was years older than I am. Oh, son, I want to do something for my country!” The man’s voice almost broke in his cry of appeal. Joseph glanced critically at the pleading eyes beneath the disheveled thatch of whitening hair. “Do you really want to do something for your country?” he asked, as though arguing with a stupid schoolboy. “Then I’ll tell you how you can best do it. I am forced to go away. I must leave my wife and son with no guardian or protector but yourself. By helping me you can help your country. “Stay here and take care of them. That will enable me to go to my duty with a free mind and to keep my mind on the needs of the nation instead of fearing always that some trouble may befall my dear ones.” “But,” protested Dad, “you said you looked on this just as a business venture, and--” “I spoke lightly. As you guessed, to avoid praise for what is only my clear duty.” “Oh, I’m glad. But--” “If I can be at rest about my wife and James, leaving them in your care--and if I can be certain,” Joseph went on reluctantly, “that while I am away you yourself will not--will not--” “Will not get drunk too often and disgrace you,” finished Dad. “I understand. Go on.” “I--Marcia and I have talked it all over,” continued Joseph, visibly relieved, “and we have decided to ask you to close the cottage for the time I am away and come up to our house. A room will be ready for you there. And I shall feel much easier, leaving you in charge. You can look out for Marcia and James so much better when you are living under the same roof with them. And so we--” Slowly Dad rose. Stooping, he picked up his hat and stood facing his son. The fire was gone from his eyes, the flush from his cheek. He looked very old. “You’re right, Joe,” he said at last. “Dead right. It’s a way you’ve got. I see it. I was an old fool. I’m complimented that Marcia should want me at the house. Because I always felt she hated my calling there. “I’ll do as you say. I’ll take the best care of her and Jimmie that I can. And I’ll--I’ll try not to do anything while you’re gone to make you and Marcia too much ashamed of me. “After all, I’ve had my fighting day. Had it and smashed it. And the only way I can help now is to make it easier for my son to go to fight. I’ll put the dream aside. I’ll do what you say.”