“Does it?  Well, Mr. Gershom is always saying now that Father can’t be depended on.  It was much more peaceable,” she concluded with artless confidence, “when he let them manage him.  Now there are discussions and disagreements all the time.  It all seems to be about what they think people want.  Have you any idea what they want?”

“Does anybody know what they want—­except when they want money?”

“Well, some of them would like Father to go to the Senate,” she returned naively, “and some of them wouldn’t.  Do you think that Mr. Benham would be better in the Senate?”

“I think so, of course.  But you mustn’t judge, you know, by what my thoughts happen to be.”

“I’m not judging.  I hate politics.  I always have.  I want to get as far away from them as I can.”

He looked at her intently.  “And where would you like to go?”

“Into the movies.”  Her eyes sparkled at the thought.  “At least I wanted to go into the movies until I saw Mrs. Page this afternoon.”

“Mrs. Kent Page?” he asked in astonishment.  “My Cousin Corinna?”

“Yes, in the old print shop.  Isn’t she adorable?”

He smiled at her fervour.  “I have always found her so.  But what has she to do with your change of ambition?”

“Oh, nothing, except that she is lovelier than any actress I ever saw.”

They had reached the house, and while they ascended the steps, the sound of the Governor’s voice, raised in vehement protest, floated to them through the half-open door.

“He must be talking to Julius Gershom,” whispered Patty.  “It is always like that.”

“I don’t care a damn for the whole bunch of you,” said Vetch suddenly.  “You can go and tell that to the crowd!”

“Well, I’ll come back again after I’ve told them,” Gershom replied in an insolent tone; and the next moment the door swung back and he appeared on the threshold.

At sight of Patty and Stephen he attempted to cover his embarrassment with a jest.  “Your father and I were having one of our little arguments about a Ladies’ Aid Society,” he said.  “He is beginning to kick against too much ice cream.”

“Well, if you argue as loud as that,” replied the girl with imperturbable coolness, “it won’t be necessary to go and tell it to the crowd.”

In an instant she had changed from the sparkling elusive creature Stephen had known into a woman of authority and composure.  What an eternal enigma was the feminine mind!  He had flattered himself that he had reached the end of her superficial attractions; and in a minute, by some startling metamorphosis, she was changed from a being of transparent shallows into the immemorial riddle of sex.  She might be anything, or everything, except the ingenuous girl of the moment before.

“We must learn to lower our voices,” said the Governor in a laughing tone.  His anger, if it were anger, had blown over him like a summer storm, and the clear blue of his glance was as winning as ever.  “I’ve been looking into the matter of that appointment Judge Page asked me about,” he added, “and I think I may see my way to oblige him.”