Lily did not commit herself. She was accustomed to her father’s blunt method of indicating his wishes. She liked Shaw well enough, but old Henry’s awkward interference and zeal did the lawyer’s cause no good. Shaw was below the ordinary in the matter of good looks, and in his love for Lily was too submissive to her whims. He had not Hayward’s easy manner, nor his assurance—for the footman was not at all abashed by Henry Porter’s money nor his daughter’s gentle arrogance. It is needless to say the girl preferred the serving-man to the lawyer. After the first flush of interest in Lily and her songs had subsided Hayward made love to the pampered belle warmly or indifferently as the mood was upon him. He noted that, taking her charms in detail, they were alluring without exception; and such moments of reflective analysis were always followed by a more determined pursuit of her. Yet the careless moods came. However, he always delighted in and could be extravagant in praising her singing, even when the personal attraction was the weakest, and the general effect on the woman was a continuous tattoo of love-taps at the door of her heart. The negro magnate’s favourite, Shaw, clearly was being outdistanced, and the outraged father stamped and threatened and commanded: but to no purpose. When Hayward discovered the bitterness of the old man’s opposition he chuckled. "Here’s where I get even," he said; and became more assiduous in his attentions to Lily and more aggressive in his methods. "Your father does not appear to hold much love for me," he told Lily one evening after she had sung him into an affectionate frame of mind and the conversation had drifted along to the confidential and personal stage. "Did I ever tell you what he did with my first request for an introduction to you?" "No. What?" "He stamped the feathers off of it," said Hayward, and laughingly told her the details. "Papa thinks—everybody—should be a lawyer, or a politician with a pull," Lily commented complainingly. The temptation to vindicate his dignity was too much for Hayward. "I was not always a footman and do not intend always to be a footman; and yet, footman as I am, if your father values a pull with the President, perhaps, if he knew—oh, well, he might think better of me." "Oh, you have a pull? How interesting. Do tell me about it. I have read so much about pulls that I am dying to know what one is like. How do you work it? I believe you work a pull, don’t you? Or do you pull the—" "I haven’t pulled mine yet. I’m waiting," said Hayward. "But it will work when the time comes." "And when will the time come? Tell me. I’m so anxious to see the wheels go round in a genuine political machine. How many Southern delegates can you influence in the next national convention? That’s the mainspring, isn’t it?" "I’m no politician or vote vender. I’ve never had the pleasure of influencing my own vote yet, and won’t as long as I live in the District."