Bud Haines paused. Again he thought over Langdon's offer. Its genuineness appealed to him. Suddenly there dawned on him an idea of just what it might mean to be associated with this honest old citizen who had asked for his help—who needed it, as Haines knew only too well. He would be the Senator's guide and confidant—his adviser in big matters. Why, he would practically be United States Senator himself. He knew the "inside" as few others in Washington. Here was a chance to match his wit against that of Peabody, the boss of the Senate; a chance to spoil some of the dishonest schemes of those who were adroitly "playing the game." He could bother, too, the intriguing members of the "third house," as the lobbyists are called.
He could direct a lightning bolt into the camp of Andy Corrigan, who claimed the honor of being "speaker of the third house." These thoughts crowded into his mind. Then, too, he would become practically a member of the Langdon family and have association with the two charming daughters—with Carolina Langdon.
"It would be a great chance," he murmured half aloud; "next thing to being a Senator."
The old Mississippian heard the young man's words.
"I reckon it would," he drawled, in agreement.
"You feel sure you want me?" urged the other.
Langdon chuckled.
"I asked you," he said.
Haines came abruptly to decision.
"I've thought it over, Senator, and it seems to me it will be a great chance in every way. I'll accept. We'll fix it up to-morrow, and I'll try to make you a good secretary."