“I’ve told father,” said Eleanor, “that I haven’t any influence with you. I’d not venture to speak to you about a political matter—unless I understood it. And I’ve been so busy with the baby these last two years that I don’t really know anything any more.”
“Eleanor, I’ve explained it all to you,” said Clearwater, deeply agitated. “If he goes on, it means disgrace to me. I can punish him—and I shall. But I’ll have to leave public life.”
Eleanor looked inquiringly at her husband. He said:
“Yes, dear.”
“George, you can’t do that!” cried she.
Helm winced. He said gravely:
“Your father—through his corporation—put it squarely up to me either to prosecute him or to re-license his corporation for robbing the people of this state.”
“That’s a lie!” cried Clearwater. “It’s as honest a business as there is!”
“Yes,” said Helm, “it’s as honest a big business as there is—and as dishonest.”
“You can’t disgrace my father, George,” said Eleanor. “You can’t send my cousins to the penitentiary. Why, they’re like my brothers.”