"Hay! Here's a fellow believes there's something practical in the world nowadays! Sell out, son." "Then who would run our mills?" "Maybe some philanthropist with more money than brains." "You mean," George asked, "that our products, unless conditions improve, will disappear from the world, because no one will be able to afford to manufacture them?" Blodgett pursed his lips. George stared from the window at the forest of buildings which impressed him, indeed, as giant tree trunks from which all the foliage had been stripped. Had there been awakened in the world an illiberal individuality with the power to fell them every one, and to turn up the system out of which they had sprung as from a rich soil? Was that what he had helped fight the war for? "You're talking about the dark ages," he said, feeling the necessity of faith and stability. "Sell your stocks if you want, I choose to keep mine." Blodgett yawned. "We'll go down together, George. I won't jump from a sinking ship as long as you cling to the bridge." "The ship isn't sinking," George cried. "It's too buoyant." XI Wandel and Goodhue came home, suffering from this universal restlessness. "Ah, _mon_ brave!" Wandel greeted George. "_Mon vieux Georges, grand et incomparable!_ So the country's dry! Jewels are cheaper than beefsteaks! Congress is building spite fences! None the less, I'm glad to be home." "Glad enough to have you," George said. "I'm not sure we won't go back to our bargain pretty soon. I'm about ready for a pet politician." "Let me get clean," Wandel laughed. "You must have a lot of money." "I can control enough," George said, confidently. "_Bon!_ But don't send me to Washington at first. I don't want to put on skirts, use snuff, or practise gossiping." For a time he refused to apply himself to anything that didn't lead to pleasure. Goodhue went at once to Rhode Island for a visit with his father and mother, while Wandel flitted from place to place, from house to house, as if driven by his restlessness to the play he had abandoned during five years. Once or twice George caught him with Rogers in town, and bluntly asked him why. "An eye to the future, my dear George. Are you the most forgetful of class presidents? Perfect henchman type. When one goes into politics one must have henchmen." But George had an unwelcome feeling that Rogers, eyes always open, was taking advantage, in his small way, of the world's unsettled condition. People were inclined to laugh at him, but they treated him well for Wandel's sake.