It appeared that the Bassetts spent their summers at their cottage on Lake Waupegan and that Mrs. Owen had a farm near them.  It was clear that Bassett enjoyed his family.  He fell into a chaffing way with his children and laughed heartily at Marian’s forwardness.  He met his son on the lad’s own note of self-importance and connived with him to provoke her amusing impertinences.

Bassett imposed no restrictions upon Harwood’s pencil, and this, too, was a novel experience.  His predecessors on the list of leaders in Hoosier politics had not been backward about making suggestions, but Bassett did not refer to Harwood’s errand at all.  When Dan asked for photographs of Mrs. Bassett and the children with which to embellish his article, Bassett declined to give them with a firmness that ended the matter; but he promised to provide photographs of the house and grounds and of the Waupegan cottage and send them to Harwood in a day or two.

* * * * *

Harwood gave to his sketch of Morton Bassett a care which he had not bestowed upon any of his previous contributions to the “Courier’s” series of Hoosier statesmen.  He remained away from the law office two days the better to concentrate himself upon his task, and the result was a careful, straightforward article, into which he threw shadings of analysis and flashes of color that reflected very faithfully the impression made upon his mind by the senator from Fraser.  The managing editor complained of its sobriety and lack of anecdote.

“It’s good, Harwood, but it’s too damned solemn.  Can’t you shoot a little ginger into it?”

“I’ve tried to paint the real Bassett.  He isn’t one of these raw hayseeds who hands you chestnuts out of patent medicine almanacs.  I’ve tried to make a document that would tell the truth and at the same time please him.”

“Why?” snapped the editor, pulling the green shade away from his eyes and glaring at the reporter.

“Because he’s the sort of man you feel you’d like to please!  He’s the only one of these fellows I’ve tackled who didn’t tell me a lot of highfalutin rot they wanted put into the article.  Bassett didn’t seem to care about it one way or another.  I rewrote most of that stuff half a dozen times to be sure to get the punk out of it, because I knew he hated punk.”

“You did, did you!  Well, McNaughton of Tippecanoe County is the next standard-bearer you’re to tackle, and you needn’t be afraid to pin ribbons on him.  You college fellows are all alike.  Try to remember, Harwood, that this paper ain’t the ‘North American Review’; it’s a newspaper for the plain people.”