“You’ve done about everything else I can think of to get everybody down on you. You’ve made the politicians hate you by forcing through decent primary and election laws. You’ve got the railroads and the big businesses down on you by making them pay taxes and obey the laws. You’ve got the farmers down on you by giving the railroads the excuse of their taxes for raising rates. You’ve got the breweries down on you by shutting up a lot of their doggeries and enforcing an inspection of their beer. You’ve got the merchants down on you by making them toe the mark on false weights and measures. You’ve got the men down on you because they say your ‘honest’ administration has made business bad, and increased the unemployed. You’ve got the women down on you because you and your wife haven’t been social snobs and givers of swell entertainments, as governors and their wives always have been hitherto--and are expected to be.” George listened, much amused. “No friends left but you, Bill,” said he. “You haven’t succeeded in pleasing anybody on earth.” “Except myself,” said Helm. They had turned and were once more moving toward the house--toward the young woman at the window. “Yourself--and your wife,” said Desbrough. “I hope so,” said George. He was looking at her. His eyes always changed expression when he looked at her. “When you took this office, you said you were going to please the people,” pursued Bill. “To _serve_ the people,” corrected Helm. “Same thing,” rejoined his friend. “Now--you’ve found out that there isn’t any such thing as the people.” Helm nodded. “There are a lot of interests of one kind and another, big and little. The masses are employed by them to produce and are their customers as consumers. The interests rob them, both ways from the Jack.” Helm nodded. “There are pluckers and plucked, but there is no such thing as ‘the people.’” “Not yet,” admitted Helm. “You’ve been serving something that doesn’t exist.” Helm nodded. “The pluckers hate you because you’ve interfered with their game. The plucked hate you because they think you’ve put them in a position where they’ll not be plucked only because they haven’t anything to pluck.” “They don’t hate me, exactly,” said George. “You’re right. I withdraw hate. They love you. They go crazy at sight of you. They flock to hear you speak and they cheer you until you have to stop them to get through your speech. But--that doesn’t fool you?” “Not for a minute,” replied Helm. “They think I mean well but am--dangerous.” “You hypnotized them two years ago,” Desbrough went on, “and induced them to give you a legislature that had to put through your program. But the pluckers have organized and have put that fox Sayler in charge again--and they’ve got your humble friends of the workshop and the plow good and scared at last.” “But I didn’t bring you here to-day, Bill, to talk about my political fortunes. What’s become of those Western Timber cases?”