"Oh, you haven't thought deeply enough, my dear. Patrick had his own troubles, believe me, though they didn't get into history. Did you ever stop to inquire how Patrick got to the House of Burgesses? It was easy enough to make speeches after he was there--that was the easiest part of it--but the getting there, it wasn't all plain sailing then. First he had the devil's own time getting on the delegation himself, then after he'd made himself solid, by supporting other men awhile, he had another time rounding up delegations that would support _him_, and there was many a man in Virginia that day, whose name is lost in darkness, who was ag'in him, and many another who went out and saw the boys and set up the pins and got the right ones on the delegation, who was thinking of some fat job in that same House of Burgesses. And take any other of the white statuesque figures of those heroic times--" "Oh, no, Jerome, don't--you're too much of an iconoclast. Leave me my ideals. There's the baby!" She arose at the premonitory whimper that a mother's ear detected. XVII Rankin returned to Grand Prairie, from the convention, in a state of mental numbness. The thing he had gone to Pekin to do had been done, and yet he did not know how it had been done. Every one greeted him as the author of Garwood's fortunes; his latest with the rest, and he was forced to accept congratulations to which he did not feel himself entitled. As the days went by and he saw Garwood's name at the head of Pusey's editorial column, and read Pusey's articles favoring Garwood's election, he was more than ever at a loss to account for the anomalous situation in which he found himself. Sometimes he had his doubts, for he was old enough in political ways to have acquired the politician's distrust, and what with the whisperings of friends and the articles he had read in other newspapers he suffered a torment of suspicions which were the more agonizing because of the wrong he subconsciously felt they did Garwood. At last he went to him. With the small energy the morning could revive in him, Rankin mounted the stairs to Garwood's office. Garwood was opening a congressman's mail, always large, and he looked up from his pile of letters and greeted Rankin with a-- "Well, Jim?" Rankin, as he sat down, was sensible of the change that had come over their relations, and he grieved for the old days when he had been able to enter this office with so much more assurance. But he was not the man to dally long in sentimentalities, and he said, when he had settled into the chair and mopped his brow: "Jerry, I've come to have it out." Garwood unfolded the letter he had just taken from its envelope. His face reddened as he bent over to read it, and he did not turn around. "Have what out, Jim?" he asked, quietly. "Why," Rankin went on, "this misunderstanding." "What misunderstanding? I don't know what you mean. Explain yourself." Garwood kept on tearing open his letters.