"I was present when he signed it," said the Duke, as soon as they were walking side by side once more. "Something had to be done politically with the Washingtonian movement, you know; it had cut the cranks out of the main herd. You'd think, nowadays, to hear some of the things that are said about conditions in the old times, that every man in this State picked up his rum-bottle and pipe and threw 'em to Tophet and got onto the wagon. You weren't born then. Let me tell you how it really happened. It was mostly politics. The disorganized mob of prohibitionists didn't do it—it was our party. We needed the cranks to swing the balance of power. They were all herded, ready to follow the bell. Needed a shepherd. Didn't know which one of the old parties to run to. It's a crime in politics not to grab in a bunch of the unbranded when it's that size. We put prohibition into the platform and carried the election. Then the boys went to the Governor and told him, privately, that they really didn't mean it, and framed it up that they'd pass the bill in the legislature all right and then he'd veto it—and the party would be saved, and he wouldn't be hurt, because every one knew that he couldn't be accused of acting in the interests of the rumsellers, but only stood on the constitutional law ground—and there was great talk those days, son, of personal liberty and inherent rights. But Vard picked up his pen and told us he wasn't much of a hand for playing practical jokes on the people. He signed it. And he was a license man, at that, those days. Guess he is now."
"I don't see how you can say he has played politics—not after he stood out like that."
Thelismer Thornton laughed silently. They were half-way up the long hill. The bland morning was already growing warm. The old man stopped for a moment, hat off, under a dewy maple.
"Bub, do you think Vard Waymouth, lawyer that he is, didn't know just about how much that act would amount to after it got to operating? About all it did was to proclaim the rum business contraband. No teeth, no claws, not much machinery for enforcement—and public sentiment cussing it, after it began to hit men individually. Reform in politics is popular just so long as it doesn't hit individuals."
"There's teeth enough in the law now", remarked Harlan.
"Oh, it's easier to put 'em in than it is to fight the mouths of the professional ramrodders who come down to the legislature. We put in the teeth right along and leave off the enforcement muscle. The old thing can't chaw! Then the ramrodders have got the law to hoorah about and read over in the parlor, and they'll go right past such a place as we saw down the street there and not know it's a rumshop. After they get all the law they ask for, it's a part of their game to say that the rumshops aren't doing business. They're the kind that believe that just having the law makes every one good—they don't want to go back on their own scheme. Come along!" He went out into the sunshine. "I don't like to get talking prohibition. The play is not to talk it. It runs best when you don't talk about it. It's running good now. Saloons open, and all the prohibitory law-frills the old fuss-budgets can crochet and hang onto the original bush! Both sides satisfied!"
"It may be good politics—it may seem all right to you, because you were in the thing from the start and saw how the tricks had to be played," grumbled the young man. "But I haven't had that kind of training. I've been brought up in business, grandfather. And a State that will do what this State is doing now—I'm not saying who's at fault—but the State that will handle a law in this way is a blackleg. I believe in General Waymouth. I believe he's got something up his sleeve in the way of real reform. I believe he meant what he said. I don't want to see you hurt personally in your plans, grandfather, but I want to tell you frankly I'm with the other side in this thing."
The Duke glanced at him inquiringly.
"I mean, politics or no politics, I want to see a law enforced so long as it's a law. If a party cannot hold together and keep on top with any other system, then the party is 'in' wrong. I don't believe General Waymouth intends to straddle. He'll enforce the law."
"And kill his party?" inquired the old man, sarcastically. "Oh no, my boy. The party has looked out for that. It isn't taking any chances with a man who might get morally rambunctious. The Governor of this State hasn't anything to do with enforcing the prohibitory law. We've kept all the clubs out of his hands. When the W. C. T. U. converted old Governor Levett, he got ambitious and tried it on. And the only thing he found he could do was to issue a proclamation to the sheriffs 'to do their duty.' The most of 'em framed it and hung it up in their offices; it was too good a joke to keep hid."