“Well, I suppose, John,” Hiram said, turning a serious face to his brother, “that you've thought the matter all over, and are sure you are right?” The Governor threw back his head with a scoffing laugh. “I guess it didn't require much thought on my part,” he answered carelessly. “I don't see how you figure that out,” contended Hiram warmly. “You're Governor of the State, and your own boss, ain't you?” It was the first time in all his life that anyone had squarely confronted John Berriman with the question whether or not he was his own boss, and for some reason it went deep into his soul, and rankled there. “Now see here, Hiram,” he said at length, “there's no use of your putting on airs and pretending you don't understand this thing. You know well enough it was all fixed before I went in.” The other man looked at him in bewilderment, and the Governor continued brusquely: “The party knew the Senator was going to die, and so the Governor pulled out and I went in just so the thing could be done decently when the time came.” The old farmer was scratching his head. “That's it, eh? They got wind the Senator was goin' to die, and so the Governor told that lie about having to go South just so he could step into the dead man's shoes, eh?” “That's the situation--if you want to put it that way.” “And now you're going to appoint the Governor?” “Of course I am; I couldn't do anything else if I wanted to.” “Why not?” “Why, look here, Hiram, haven't you any idea of political obligation? It's expected of me.” “Oh, it is, eh? Did you promise to appoint the Governor?” “Why, I don't know that I exactly made any promises, but that doesn't make a particle of difference. The understanding was that the Governor was to pull out and I was to go in and appoint him. It's a matter of honour;” and Governor Berriman drew himself up with pride. The farmer turned a troubled face to the fire. “I suppose, then,” he said finally, “that you all think the Governor is the best man we have for the United States Senate. I take it that in appointing him, John, you feel sure he will guard the interests of the people before everything else, and that the people--I mean the working people of this State--will always be safe in his hands; do you?” “Oh, Lord, no, Hiram!” exclaimed the Governor irritably. “I don't think that at all!” Hiram Berriman's brown face warmed to a dull red. “You don't?” he cried. “You mean to sit there, John Berriman, and tell me that you don't think the man you're going to put in the United States Senate will be an honest man? What do you mean by saying you're going to put a dishonest man in there to make laws for the people, to watch over them and protect them? If you don't think he's a good man, if you don't think he's the best man the State has”--the old farmer was pounding the table heavily with his huge fist--“if you don't think that, in God's name, _why do you appoint him_?”