He squinted, quizzically. "Well, a man who stays
in politics fifty years and doesn't make enemies, stays too close to the
ground to be worth anything. Good, healthy, vigorous enemies are a
compliment."
"I wonder whether his party will say that when General Waymouth starts
out in his reforms."
"What reforms?" demanded the old man, tugging off his collar.
"You heard what he said--about what he intended to do--the warning, as
he called it."
Thornton looked at his grandson serenely and with a glint of humor in
his eyes.
"You don't have any idea, do you, that Vard Waymouth is going to play
politics with sugar-plums instead of with the chips he finds on the
table? Get your wisdom teeth cut, young chap. That's another branch of
the science for you to learn."
Harlan protested, his loyalty a bit shocked.
"I believe that General Waymouth meant what he said."
"Well, what did he say?"
"You _know_ what he said. I saw you listening pretty closely,
grandfather. He intends a square deal for this State. I may be young,
and I probably don't understand politics, but I know an honest gentleman
when I see one.
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