"I remember him," said Margaret. "I have heard my father speak of him."
"Yes. Perhaps other names will come to you in connection with your father."
They did. For six years she had put the Senate, the House, and the whole body politic out of view. They had all been obscured by one small child. Now they suddenly assumed gigantic proportions. When she reached the carriage her directions to the coachman surprised him.
"To the Capitol," she said.
An overwhelming desire was upon her to enter the Senate Chamber again and look that august body over. Was there anybody there now that she would know? Anybody that would know her?
As she went into the "ladies' gallery" a tourist in the front row with a guidebook in her hand rose to go. Margaret slipped into the vacated seat and leaned over the rail. It was the first time she had been there since she used to come with her father. Then she always sat in the "reserved gallery."
There were very few members present. A Senator from the West was making a speech on irrigation to which nobody seemed to be paying any attention, not even "Mr. President," whom he was so earnestly apostrophizing. As Margaret looked at him more closely she perceived that it was a man she had once met at Judge Kirtley's. She distinctly remembered the occasion and Judge Kirtley's saying of him afterwards that he was a "fair-minded" man. It had seemed to her then faint praise,—now fair-mindedness seemed a cardinal virtue in a Senator. Perhaps she could reach him through Judge Kirtley.... And there was Senator Vest, of Missouri. Why, was it possible that he was still here? She remembered his coming to her father's house when she was a young girl—oh, so many years ago! He was one of her father's friends. She had heard him tell often of Senator Vest's eulogy of the dog which by its touching eloquence brought instantly a verdict against its slayer. And there on the other side was Senator Hoar, of Massachusetts, who had once written a plea from the birds to be presented to the legislature asking protection. Surely if the hearts of these men were open to dumb animals and the fowls of the air, they would not be shut to a mother's cry!
Finally the Senator who felt that in storage reservoirs for the western waters lay the safety of the country, sat down, gathered up his papers, and looked around blankly at the empty seats, chastened, perhaps, but without doubt reflecting that his great effort would reach the eyes of his constituents even though the ears of his colleagues had failed him.
And now a new man was on the floor. The comatose Senate seemed suddenly to have regained consciousness. People leaned over the railings and craned their necks to see what was happening below. The Senators were dropping in from every quarter. Employees were lining up around the room. The mysterious button which announces a speaker worth hearing or a question of moment had evidently been pressed. So far as Margaret was concerned, neither the man nor the measure was of the least importance. The subject might have been the condition of Boribooligha for all she could tell about it. To her it was an occasion to look into the faces of men who had power to change a law, nothing more. The Senate is not subject to the fluctuations of the House. As she looked down upon them she was surprised to see how many she knew, and every familiar face gave her an added sense of potentiality. If only she knew how to begin!
As she passed through the corridor going home she ran into a florid little man apparently hurrying to reach the chamber before the speech was ended.