In that ancient State House, its accommodations for spectators limited, there were no hard-and-fast rules regulating admission to the floor.  Harlan Thornton had a chair placed in the aisle beside his seat, and entertained Madeleine Presson there.  He had anticipated Linton, who came with a similar invitation.  Harlan was still enough of a boy to feel delight in the discomfiture of his rival, and to be gratified by the open admiration his fellow-members showed for the girl at his side.  He relished the sour looks which Linton sent in that direction.

Under cover of the general buzz and bustle that accompanied the convening of the joint session of House and Senate for the purpose of the inauguration the girl rallied him a bit.

“The beginning of the righteous reign seems to be sane and sweet, after all,” she said.  “Even my father is complacent and purring this morning.  Which has he eaten, do you know—­the raven of contention or the dove of peace?”

“I think every one understands that Governor Waymouth has straightened matters out for all of us,” he replied.

“How?  By simply talking about it?  As one who should say, ’Let it be done,’ and it was done, and just what was done nobody, nobody knew—­but it was done—­something was—­and all the folks felt better and went on in the same old way!  Is that it?”

He smiled at her while she teased him; the nature of the armistice that prevailed, according to outward appearances, was not understood by him.  For several weeks his intimacy with General Waymouth had not been as close as at the first.  Not that there was distrust or even coolness between them.  The veteran still depended on the young man for the services a trusted lieutenant could render.  His plans, however, his future programme of reorganization—­if he had any definite plans—­the General kept to himself.  It was not mere reticence.  But there was an atmosphere about the old statesman as though he had withdrawn himself to a higher altitude to think his thoughts and formulate his plans alone.  If he had heard of the intimacy of Harlan Thornton with the family of Luke Presson he made no comment on that fact.

“Now what is he going to say in his address?” she asked.  “Every one will know in a few moments.  Tell me ahead—­tell me the big utterance that will make the people sit up.  I want to be ready to watch their faces!”

“Why, I haven’t a single idea what he will say,” he blurted.

“Oh, safe repository, I salute you!”

“But I haven’t!  The Governor hasn’t opened his mouth to me!”

“Have a care!  One very easily steps from polite diplomacy into very impolite falsehood.  You must always be truthful with me, Harlan.”

His eyes grew brighter and his tanned cheeks warm.  It was the first time she had addressed him without hateful formality.

“I propose to tell you the truth, always,” he assured her.  “But I mean what I say—­the Governor has kept his address to himself.”