“And I'll tell you,” Senator Bruner was saying, “it isn't only because I knew it would be funny that I wanted you to see it; but--well, you see America isn't the real America when she has on her best clothes and is trying to show off. You haven't seen anybody who hasn't prepared for your coming, and that means you haven't seen them as they are at all. Now here we are. This is us! You see that fellow hanging a picture down there? He's president of the First National Bank. Came over a little while ago, got next to the situation, and stayed to help. And--say, this is good! Notice that red-headed fellow just getting up from his knees? Well, he's president of the teamsters' union--figured so big in a strike here last year. I call that pretty rich! He's the fellow they are all so afraid of, but I guess he liked the idea of the boys doing it themselves, and just sneaked in and helped.--There's the Governor. He's a fine fellow. He wouldn't be held up by anybody--not even to get ready for a Prince, but he's worked like a Trojan all day to make things come his way. Yes sir--this is the sure-enough thing. Here you have the boys off dress parade. Not that we run away from our dignity every day, but--see what I mean?” “I see,” replied the Prince, and he looked as though he really did. “You know--say, dodge there! Move back! No--too late. The Governor's caught us. Look at him!” The Governor's eyes had turned upward, and he had seen. He put his hands on his back--he couldn't look up without doing that--and gave a long, steady stare. First, Senator Bruner waved; then Senator Patton waved; then Mr. McVeigh waved; and then the Prince waved. Other people were beginning to look up. “They're all on,” laughed Patton, “let's go down.” At first they were disposed to think it pretty shabby treatment. “We worked all day to get in shape,” grumbled Harry Weston, “and then you go ring the curtain up on us before it's time for our show to begin.” But the Prince made them feel right about it. He had such a good time that they were forced to concede the move had been a success. And he said to the Governor as he was leaving: “I see that the only way to see America is to see it when America is not seeing you.” VIII THE LAST SIXTY MINUTES “Nine--ten--” The old clock paused as if in dramatic appreciation of the situation, and then slowly, weightily, it gave the final stroke, “Eleven!” The Governor swung his chair half-way round and looked the timepiece full in the face. Already the seconds had begun ticking off the last hour of his official life. On the stroke of twelve another man would be Governor of the State. He sat there watching the movement of the minute hand. The sound of voices, some jovial, some argumentative, was borne to him through the open transom. People were beginning to gather in the corridors, and he could hear the usual disputes about tickets of admission to the inaugural.