Helm did not exaggerate the public interest in himself. If anything he, the most cautiously Caledonian of career-builders, estimated his reputation at less than it was. But he had the true man of the people’s instinct for the feeling of the people. His crusading spirit was not either academic or fanatic. It was the sensible indignation of the man who discovers that a certain evil has gone far enough and must be put down. He felt that, if he could manage his career sensibly, he could make it all he wished. The pressing problem was how to increase this reputation into fame of the kind useful to his purposes as a public man, and how to transform that increased reputation into a cleanly-acquired independence. “And it seems to me, Bill,” said he, “that the best available plan is a lecture tour--through the towns, villages, crossroads hamlets of the whole State.” “Talking politics? Nobody’ll listen to politics except round election time. That’s why robbing the people’s the easiest and the favorite way to make money.” “Everything’s politics,” said Helm. “Religion’s politics, and education’s politics, and farming and mining and factories and doctors and storekeeping--everything! What’s politics but settling how the proceeds of everybody’s labor are to be distributed--whether the man who works is to get what he works for or somebody else is to get it? And that question means everything that affects any human being, morally, mentally, physically. I’m going to talk politics, but they’ll not know it.” “Where do _I_ come in?” “You’re to be my manager--arrange the dates and so on. It’s got to be arranged while I’m busy in the Legislature, in January and February. I’ll do what I can there to make myself talked about. You’ll correspond with culture clubs and literary circles and churches that want debts raised and public schools and trade schools with lecture courses.” Desbrough looked willing but helpless. “Is there much chance to lecture in this State?” said he. “I thought that sort of thing had died out.” “If it had, we’d raise it from the dead,” said Helm. “But it hasn’t.” He took from the drawer of his table a bundle of papers. He waved them triumphantly at his friend, saying: “Here it is, Bill--all down in black and white. A hundred and eighty-six chances to lecture--if it’s worked right.” Desbrough, the lazy man, groaned. “Why didn’t you pick out somebody else, damn you!” he cried. “You offered,” said Helm. “You hypnotized me,” retorted Desbrough. “Lord, what a pile of work!” “Yes,” said Helm. “You’ll have to begin right away. I calculate to make twenty-five hundred dollars by the first of June. I want to build this thing up in a couple of years into a steady income of five to ten thousand--an income nobody can touch so long as people’ll come out to hear me.” The handsome blue-gray eyes looked anxiously from the homely face. “Bill, am I deceiving myself? Do you think they’ll _pay_ to hear _me_?”