"And I suppose you don't want to touch anything from me now! See here, May, I came over this morning to do something for you and Will. Did he tell you about my wanting him to go down to my place in the country until he got well and strong?"
"He's much interested in this paper, and thinks he can't get away," she said evasively.
"Darn his paper! You don't believe Will was cut out to be a thinker? Anyhow, he ought to get his health back first, and give you an easier time, too."
"I am all right. Will is very much in earnest about his ideas. You can't get him to think about himself."
"Well, I don't mind his trying to reform the earth. If later on he wants a paper to whack the rich with, I'll buy him one. Come, that's fair, isn't it?"
May laughed at my offer, but made no reply.
"If you folks are so obstinate, if I can't get you to go down to my place, I'll have to turn it into a school or something. A fellow I was talking with on the train the other day gave me an idea of making it into a sort of reform school for boys. What would you think of that? Sarah is taken with the idea—she never liked the place and won't want to go back, now that the baby died there."
"That's a good plan—turning philanthropist, Van? That's the right way to get popular approval, Senator."
She mocked me, but her laugh rang out good-naturedly.
"Popular approval never worried me much. But, May, I want your good-will, and I mean to get it, too."