“Wonderful faculty he has”--the Colossus seemed again to be thinking aloud--“of swaying audiences. Rather picked audiences, too. And as men are reckoned nowadays, hardly more than a boy.” “He’s thirty-eight.” “Almost an infant prodigy!” The deep laugh was very good to hear. “I never heard Gladstone. Before my day. But one or two of the fathers who go back to prehistoric times say that your young man is such another, but that the People’s John--proud title the People’s John--and only thirty-eight--has one shot in his game that the G. O. M. never had. It’s the master-shot, too, believe me. Humor. Cool-drawn humor. With that in your bag, you’ve always a chance of holing out under bogey. Don’t you agree?” “Yes, I hope he has it,” said the cautious Helen. “But whether on the platform it quite ‘gets over,’ as they say in the theater, one is never quite sure. Whenever one hears him one is always dominated by his tremendous moral enthusiasm.” “There’s your Gladstone. Always _the_ card, of course. That’s why good judges think he may go a very long way.” Helen’s heart took fire. These were big words in the mouth of the Colossus. “You think that?” She looked eagerly across at him. “Really and truly you think that?” The immediate answer of the great man was slowly to produce a cigar case. “No use offering you a cigarette. I know you don’t smoke. Wise--very wise woman.” As he spoke he chose a cigar, cut off the end, lit it. “Do you really think he’ll go far?” she persisted. “The pundits seem pretty unanimous.” “But you--yourself--personally?” The Colossus drew tentatively at his cigar. “Pray, who am I--a mere newspaper man--to hold an opinion--on such a matter? I can only tell you that Mr. Ransom thinks so and he, as you know, held office before the Deluge.” “But you--yourself?” She was determined to nail him down. “Do you think John Endor may one day be Prime Minister?” “Well, since you ask me”--each word was like a drip of ice-cold water--“in my humble opinion, I don’t.” Something in the deliberate voice clutched her by the throat. As his eye caught hers and held it, she drew her breath quickly in. “Since you ask me.” The tone was sweet apology, “Only my poor opinion. Really, I don’t pretend to know. Why should one?” “You think,” said Helen, “that ... he ... might...?” “My dear, I think nothing.” It was the father speaking again. “One can’t help feeling he’s a rather high explosive, that’s all. And of course, the mother----” “The mother!” Her breath came and went in a little gasp. Watching her closely he saw her turn very white. “I beg your pardon!” He was very quick, very adroit. “But you pin me down. And you mean so much to one, you know. In the Office we have come quite to depend on you. I can’t help thinking of you almost as a girl of my own.” The simple words sank deep. They were music. This man had always had her loyal admiration. And now, as she sat facing him, she began to feel awed by a sense of all that he had done for her.