To him heat and cold were matters of indifference. He had ploughed and mowed in the broiling sun; he had slept under thin covers, with snow sifting through the roof, had brushed the snow off his skin when he got ready to rise. He had eaten all kinds of difficult, not to say impossible, fried food--and had not known what he was eating, or cared. He was so profoundly inured to hardship that he was unaware of it--and was unaware of comfort when he, by chance, got it. Hardened against hardship; hardened also against comfort and luxury. That last peculiarity was probably the most significant factor in his make-up. Yet no one had noted it; he himself not only had not noted it but never would. When one considers how powerful in effect upon human character is love of the softer side of life, and desire for it and clinging to it and respecting it and its possessors, one begins to comprehend how far-reaching was the importance of George Helm’s unique hardiness. Eleanor Clearwater was visiting in the hill top part of Harrison--was visiting the Hollisters, where she could stop whenever she wished, and as long as she wished, without any one’s thinking of the matter. Helm--regarded with respect by the better class at Harrison, now that he was so high in public life--had arranged to receive the returns at Hollister’s. Bart Hollister, without a suspicion that Eleanor had “managed” him, invited Helm--and was as astonished as pleased by his prompt acceptance. So sweeping was the victory that his election was conceded by the Republicans before he finished supper at Mrs. Beaver’s. “A governor gets eight thousand a year, doesn’t he?” said Miss Shaler, the sentimental, be-wigged old maid of the boarding-house circle. “You’ll certainly pick on some nice girl and be getting married now, Mr. Helm.” “_Governor_ Helm,” corrected Mrs. Beaver, proudly. “Yes, I’m sure there’ll soon be a Mrs. Governor Helm,” said Miss Shaler, with the soft hysterical giggle with which she accompanied all her frequent remarks on the one subject that interested her. Helm surprised them all--threw them into a ferment of curiosity--by saying with bold, emphatic, even noisy energy, unbelievable in so shy a man: “Yes, indeed, ma’am. She and I’ll be inaugurated together.” He laughed with a gayety that seemed a little foolish in a grave governor-elect. He gave them no chance to devise ways round the inflexible rule against direct questions as to that one subject. He rose and went forth to claim his bride. V SEEING HER FATHER