"What is it, Richard?"

"I'm going to run for mayor."

The old lady dropped her work and held up her hands in horror.

"You are fooling, Richard!"

"I am very serious, Aunty."

"But politicians are such scamps, Richard."

"Somebody's got to reform them."

"But they'll reform you into one of their kind. You don't mean it!"

"Yes, I do. I've promised, and I can't back down now."

"No good will come of it," said the old lady prophetically, reaching down for her work. "But if you are determined, I suppose it's no use for me to talk. What will the Benningtons say?"

"They rather approve of the idea. I'm going up there early to-morrow.

I'll be up before you're down. Good night." He lightly kissed the wrinkled face.

"Have a good time, Richard; and G.o.d bless my boy."

He paused on the threshold and came back. Why, he did not know. But having come back, he kissed her once again, his hands on her cheeks.

There were tears in her eyes.

"You're so kind and good to an old woman, Richard."

"Pshaw! there's n.o.body your equal in all the world. Good night;" and he stepped out into the hall.

The next morning he left town for the Benningtons' bungalow in the Adirondacks. He carried his fishing-rods, for Patty had told him that their lake was alive with black ba.s.s. Warrington was an ardent angler.

Rain might deluge him, the sun scorch, but he would sit in a boat all day for a possible strike. He arrived at two in the afternoon, and found John, Kate and Patty at the village station. A buckboard took them into the heart of the forest, and the penetrating, resinous perfumes tingled Warrington's nostrils. He had been in the woods in years gone by; not a tree or a shrub that he did not know. It was nearly a two hours' drive to the lake, which was circled by lordly mountains.

"Isn't it beautiful?" asked Patty, with a kind of proprietary pride.

"It is as fine as anything in the Alps," Warrington admitted. "Shall we go a-fishing in the morning?"

"If you can get up early enough."

"Trust me!" enthusiastically.

"I netted one this morning that weighed three pounds."

"Fish grow more rapidly out of water than in," railingly.

"John, didn't that ba.s.s weigh three pounds?" Patty appealed.

"It weighed three and a half."

"I apologize," said Warrington humbly.

"How's the politician?" whispered Kate, eagerly.

"About to find himself in the heart of a great scandal. The enemy has located us, and this afternoon the Times is to come out with a broadside. I haven't the least idea what it will say, nor care."

"That's the proper way to talk," replied Kate approvingly. "We climbed that bald mountain yesterday. Patty took some beautiful photographs."

"The tip of your nose is beginning to peel," said Warrington irrelevantly.

"It's horrid of you to mention it. I'm not used to the sun, but I love it. Patty is teaching me how to bait a hook."

"I'd like to see a photograph of that," Warrington cried. "Say, John, is there any way of getting to-night's newspapers up here?"

"Nothing till to-morrow morning. The boat leaves the mail at night.

But what's this talk about politics?" John demanded.

Warrington looked at Patty and Kate in honest amazement.

"Do you two mean to tell me," he asked, "that you have really kept the news from John?"

"You told us not to tell," said Kate reproachfully.

"Well, I see that I shall never get any nearer the truth about women.

I thought sure they'd tell you, Jack, that I'm going to run for mayor this fall."

"No!"

"Truth. And it's going to be the fight of my life. I accepted in the spirit of fun, but I am dead in earnest now. Whichever way it goes, it will be a good fight. And you may lay to that, my lad, as our friend Long John Silver used to say."

He said nothing, however, of his interview with McQuade. That was one of the things he thought best to keep to himself.

"I'll harangue the boys in the shops," volunteered John, "though there's a spirit of unrest I don't like. I've no doubt that before long I shall have a fight on my hands. But I shall know exactly what to do," grimly. "But hang business! These two weeks are going to be totally outside the circle of business. I hope you'll win, d.i.c.k. We'll burn all the stray barrels for you on election night."

"There'll be plenty of them burning. But I shall be nervous till I see the Times."

"You'll have it in the morning."

Warrington sighed. Half an hour later the bungalow came into view.

The elder Bennington knew the value of hygienic living. He kept his children out of doors, summer and winter. He taught them how to ride, to hunt, to fish; he was their partner in all out-of-door games; he made sport interesting and imparted to them his own zest and vitality.

So they grew up strong and healthy. He left their mental instruction to the mother, knowing full well that she would do as much on her side as he had done on his. Only one law did he lay down: the children should go to public schools till the time for higher education arrived. Then they might choose whatever seat of learning they desired. He had the sound belief that children sent to private schools rarely become useful citizens.

The rosal glow of dawn tipped the mountains, and a russet haze lay on the still bosom of the lake. Warrington made a successful cast not far from the lily-pods. Zing! went the reel. But by the pressure of his thumb he brought the runaway to a sudden halt. The tip of the rod threatened to break! Hooked! Patty swung round the canoe, which action gave the angler freer play. Ah, wasn't that beautiful! Two feet out of the water! Here he comes, but not more swiftly than the reel can take him. Off he goes again--take care for the unexpected slack. Another leap, like a bronze flame, and then a dash for the shallow bottom. He fought gallantly for his life and freedom. Patty reached for the net.

Inch by inch Warrington drew him in. Twice he leaped over the net, but Patty was an old hand. The third effort landed him.

"Two pounds," said Patty. "Plenty for breakfast now."