But he kept his temper, in a measure,
at least.
"I guess it's no use for us to try to get together," he said with a tang
of abruptness in his tone. "We are diametrically opposed to each other
at every point, you and I, dad. I stand for democracy, the will of the
people and its fullest and freest expression. You stand for--"
"Well, son, what do I stand for?" queried the father, and the question
was put with a quizzical smile that brought the hot blood boyishly to
Blount's cheeks.
"If I should say what all men say--what some of them are frank enough to
say even to me--" he stopped short, and then went on with better
self-control: "Let's keep the peace if we can, dad."
"Oh, I reckon we can do that," was the good-natured rejoinder. "Being on
the railroad side, yourself, you can't help feeling sort of hostile at
the rest of us, I reckon."
Blount put his knife and fork down and straightened himself in his
chair.
"There it is again, you see. We can't get together even on a question of
admitted fact! Do you suppose for a single minute, dad, that I've been
going up and down, and around and about, all these weeks without finding
out that the old alliance of the machine with the very element in the
railroad policy that I am fighting is still in existence?"
The senator was nodding soberly. "So you've found that out, too, have
you?" he commented.
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