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Day, Holman (Holman Francis), 1865-1935

"The Ramrodders A Novel"

One thing comforted him: he had not lost his faith
in General Waymouth. His grandfather's cynicism had not destroyed that.
He realized that his youth and his lack of experience would make him a
very humble cog in the legislative machinery. But he had youth and high
hopes, and his creed from boyhood had been to do everything that he had
to do resolutely and to the full measure of his ability.
When he looked at his watch he decided that he would not go to his
berth. The train would reach the State capital shortly after four in the
morning. He dozed in his seat, the grateful breath of the summer night
fanning his face through the screen. The Duke found him there, appearing
as he had departed, his coat on his arm, his collar in his hand. He was
full of the briskness of the dawn in spite of his short rations of
sleep.
"You mustn't think because you've found sins in the party that you've
been picked out for the atonement, boy," he chided, jocosely. "Get your
sleep--always get your sleep. I wouldn't have been alive to-day if I'd
been kept awake by worry and wonder.


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