He still resented the idea of her sacrifice, as he called it, in the cause of education.  They were now so well acquainted that they were not always careful to be polite in their talk; but he had an uneasy feeling that she didn’t wholly approve of him.  All summer, when they had discussed politics, she had avoided touching upon his personal interests and activities.  His alliance with Bassett, emphasized in the state convention, was a subject she clearly avoided.  This morning, as he kept time to her quick step, he craved her interest and sympathy.  Her plain gray suit and simple cloth hat could not disguise her charm or grace.  It seemed to him that she was putting herself a little further away from him, that she was approaching the business of life with a determination, a spirit, a zest, that dwarfed to insignificance his own preoccupation with far less important matters.  She turned to glance back at a group of children they had passed audibly speculating as to the character of teacher the day held in store for them.

“Don’t you think they’re worth working for?” Sylvia asked.

Dan shrugged his shoulders.

“I suppose more lives are ground up in the school-teaching machine than in any other way.  Go on!  The girl who taught me my alphabet in the little red school-house in Harrison County earned her salary, I can tell you.  She was seventeen and wore a pink dress.”

“I’m sorry you don’t approve of me or my clothes.  Now Allen approves of me:  I like Allen.”

“His approval is important, I dare say.”

“Yes, very.  It’s nice to be approved of.  It helps some.”

“And I suppose there ought to be a certain reciprocity in approval and disapproval?”

“Oh, there’s bound to be!”

Their eyes met and they laughed lightheartedly.

“I’m going to tell you something,” said Dan.  “On the reciprocal theory I can’t expect anything, but I’m lonesome and have no friends anyhow, so I’ll give you a chance to say something withering and edged with a fine scorn.”

“Good!  I’ll promise not to disappoint you.”

“I’m going to be put on the legislature ticket to-day—­to fill a vacancy.  I suppose you’ll pray earnestly for my defeat.”

“Why should I waste prayers on that?  Besides, Allen solemnly declares that the people are to be trusted.  It’s not for me to set my prayers against the will of the pee-pull.”

“If you had a vote,” he persisted, “you wouldn’t vote for me?”

“I should have to know what you want to go to the legislature for before committing myself.  What are you doing it for?”

“To do all the mischief I can, of course; to support all the worst measures that come up; to jump when the boss’s whip cracks!”

She refused to meet him on this ground.  He saw that any expectation he might have that she would urge him to pledge himself to noble endeavor and high achievements as a state legislator were doomed to disappointment.  He was taken aback by the tone of her retort.