Before I left for the West the family sailed for Europe. Little May and sister Sarah, as we called the girls, had persuaded their mother to take them over to Paris for a lark. May, who was thirteen, was running the party. She was a tall, lively girl, with black hair and eyes, and was thought to resemble me. The other was quieter in her ways, more like Sarah. We had lost one little boy the summer before, which was a great sorrow to us all. The older boy, who was at school preparing for college, took after his mother, too. He was a pleasant-mannered chap, with a liking for good clothes and other playthings. I did not reckon that he ever would be much of a business man. The morning that the steamer sailed Sarah was nervous over starting, but May settled her in a corner of the deck and got her a wrap. Then the girls went to say good-by to some friends. "Van," Sarah said to me when we were alone. She hesitated a moment, then went on timidly, "If anything should happen to us, Van, there's one thing--" "Nothing is going to happen! Not unless you lose your letter of credit, or the girls run off with you," I joked. "There's one thing I want to speak about seriously, Van. It's May and Will!" She paused timidly. "Well?" "Can't you do something to make them feel differently?" "I guess not. I've tried my best!" "I know they are poor, and Will's in bad health, too,--quite sick." "How did you know that?" "Oh, I saw May once before I left. They are in Chicago again." After a time I said:-- "You know I would give half of my money not to have it so, but it's no use talking. They wouldn't take a cent from me." Sarah sighed. "But couldn't you get Will a place somewhere without his knowing about how it came?" "I'll try my best," I said sadly. Then it was time to leave the steamer; the girls came and kissed me good-by, hanging about my neck and making me promise to write and to come over for them later. Sarah raised her veil as I leaned down to kiss her. "Good-by, Van," she said without much spirit. "Be careful of yourself and come over if you can get away." Of late years, especially since the boy's death, Sarah seemed to have lost her interest in things pretty much. The trip might do her good. CHAPTER XXIX THE SENATORSHIP _The people's choice--What the legislature of a great state represents--The Strauss lobby--Public opinion, pro and con--An unflattering description of myself--Carboner's confidences--On the bill-boards--Popular oratory--I discover my brother in strange company--I do some talking on my own account--An organ of kick and criticism--Turned crank_