"Now, look here, grandfather"--he began, wrathfully; but the Duke pulled him away, drowning his protests in a laugh. "You have placed me in a ridiculous position, and that's a mighty mild way to put it," complained the indignant victim, when they were outside. "I don't understand, grandfather, why you do something to me every now and then that knocks all the props out from under me. It isn't decent--it's vulgar--it's shameful, the way you do some things!" "Operate in a queer way, do I?" inquired the old man, blandly. "You certainly do." "Did you ever stop to think, boy, that human nature is a queer thing?" "Whose human nature are you referring to--yours or mine?" "You know what the old Quaker said to his wife: 'All the world's queer, dear, except thee and me--and thee's a little queer!'" The angry young man would have liked to get a little more light on the question, but Chairman Presson was ready for them and hustled them into the carriage. And on the ride to the station, during the journey by train, at the convention city, there were other matters uppermost besides a young man's pique. CHAPTER XIV THE BEES AND THE WOULD-BES Men--a swarm of men--a hiveful of men. Lobbies, parlors, corridors, stairways of the big hotel packed with men. Men in knots, in groups, in throngs, pressing together, disintegrating to form new groups, revolving in the slow mass of the herd, shaking hands, crying greetings, mumbling confidential asides. An observer who did not understand would find it all as aimless as the activity of an ant-heap--as puzzling as the slow writhings of a swarm of bees. Clouds of cigar smoke over all--voices blended into one continual diapason; medley, and miasma of close human contact. After supper, in the crowded hotel dining-room, Harlan Thornton accompanied his grandfather through the press of jostling men. The night before a State Convention was a new experience for him. He walked behind the Duke, who made his slow, urbane way here and there, drawling good-humored replies to salutations. He had quip ready for jest, handclasp for his intimates, tactful word for the newer men who were dragged forward to meet him. Even the Governor of the State, a ponderous dignitary with a banner of beard, did not receive so hearty a welcome, for the Governor was accorded only the perfunctory adulation given to one whose reign was passing. "Governors come and Governors go, Thornton, but you've got where you're an institution!" cried one admirer. "I'll be sorry to miss you out of the legislature this winter." "But here's another Thornton--and you can see that he won't rattle 'round in the seat," returned the Duke, his arm affectionately about his grandson's shoulders. As he went about, in this unobtrusive way, varying his manner with different men, he presented his political heir.