Resentment and obstinacy, if they be tempered with youth,
cannot fight long against affection and the ties of blood.
Harlan took his grandfather's hand.
"That's my boy!" cried the Duke, heartily, and he slipped his arm about
his grandson's shoulders and patted him.
"It straightens things out a good deal," observed Presson, with the
practicality of the politician. "Harlan, you're going to find a winter
at the State House worth while. With your grandfather to set you going
right and post you up, you ought to make good."
"I'd like to have a little light on one point," remarked the young man,
curtly. He felt again the irritating prick of resentment. "What am I to
be down to that legislature--myself, or Thelismer Thornton's grandson?"
"You can't afford to throw good advice over your shoulder," protested
the chairman--"not when it comes from a man that's had fifty years of
experience."
"Hold on, Luke, don't set the boy off on the wrong track. I know how he
feels. Harlan, you're going down there just as I said you're going--with
an open mind, clean hands, good, straight American spirit to do right
just so far as a man in politics can do right! I want you to see for
yourself.
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