“Then why doesn’t he get the Committee to report it and put it through?” asked Wetherell.

“Bless your simple literary nature,” exclaimed Mr Merrill, “Jethro’s got more power than any man in the state, but that isn’t saying that he doesn’t have to fight occasionally.  He has to fight now.  He has seven of the twelve senators hitched, and the governor.  But Duncan and Lovejoy have bought up all the loose blocks of representatives, and it is supposed that the franchise forces only control a quorum.  The end of the session is a week off, and never in all my experience have I seen a more praiseworthy attendance on the part of members.”

“Do you mean that they are being paid to remain in their seats?” cried the amazed Mr. Wetherell.

“Well,” answered Mr. Merrill, with a twinkle in his eye, “that is a little bald and—­and unparliamentary, perhaps, but fairly accurate.  Our friend Jethro is confronted with a problem to tax even his faculties, and to look at him, a man wouldn’t suspect he had a care in the world.”

Jethro was apparently quite as free from anxiety the next morning when he offered, after breakfast, to show Wetherell and Cynthia the sights of the town, though Wetherell could not but think that the Throne Room and the Truro Franchise Bill were left at a very crucial moment to take care of themselves.  Jethro talked to Cynthia—­or rather, Cynthia talked to Jethro upon innumerable subject’s; they looked upon the statue of a great statesman in the park, and Cynthia read aloud the quotation graven on the rock of the pedestal, “The People’s Government, made for the People, made by the People, and answerable to the People.”  After that they went into the state library, where Wetherell was introduced to the librarian, Mr. Storrow.  They did not go into the State House because, as everybody knows, Jethro Bass never went there.  Mr. Bijah Bixby and other lieutenants might be seen in the lobbies, and the governor might sign bills in his own apartment there, but the real seat of government was that Throne Room into which we have been permitted to enter.

They walked out beyond the outskirts of the town, where there was a grove or picnic ground which was also used as a park by some of the inhabitants.  Jethro liked the spot, and was in the habit sometimes of taking refuge there when the atmosphere of the Pelican House became too thick.  The three of them had sat down on one of the board benches to rest, when presently two people were seen at a little distance walking among the trees, and the sight of them, for some reason, seemed to give Jethro infinite pleasure.

“Why,” exclaimed Cynthia, “one of them is that horrid girl everybody was looking at in the dining room last night.”

“D-don’t like her, Cynthy?” said Jethro.

“No,” said Cynthia, “I don’t.”

“Pretty—­hain’t she—­pretty?”

“She’s brazen,” declared Cynthia.