MR. CREWE'S CAREER

By WINSTON CHURCHILL

BOOK 1. 

CHAPTER I

THE HONOURABLE HILARY VANE SITS FOR HIS PORTRAIT

I may as well begin this story with Mr. Hilary Vane, more frequentlyaddressed as the Honourable Hilary Vane, although it was the gentleman'sproud boast that he had never held an office in his life. He belonged tothe Vanes of Camden Street, --a beautiful village in the hills nearRipton, --and was, in common with some other great men who had made anoise in New York and the nation, a graduate of Camden Wentworth Academy. But Mr. Vane, when he was at home, lived on a wide, maple-shaded streetin the city of Ripton, cared for by an elderly housekeeper who had moreedges than a new-fangled mowing machine. The house was a porticoed onewhich had belonged to the Austens for a hundred years or more, for HilaryVane had married, towards middle age, Miss Sarah Austen. In two years hewas a widower, and he never tried it again; he had the Austens' house, and that many-edged woman, Euphrasia Cotton, the Austens' housekeeper. 

The house was of wood, and was painted white as regularly as leap year. From the street front to the vegetable garden in the extreme rear it wasexceedingly long, and perhaps for propriety's sake--Hilary Vane lived atone end of it and Euphrasia at the other. Hilary was sixty-five, Euphrasia seventy, which is not old for frugal people, though it is justas well to add that there had never been a breath of scandal about eitherof them, in Ripton or elsewhere. For the Honourable Hilary's modest needsone room sufficed, and the front parlour had not been used since poorSarah Austen's demise, thirty years before this story opens. 

In those thirty years, by a sane and steady growth, Hilary Vane hadachieved his present eminent position in the State. He was trustee for Iknow not how many people and institutions, a deacon in the first church, a lawyer of such ability that he sometimes was accorded thecourtesy-title of "Judge. " His only vice--if it could be called such--wasin occasionally placing a piece, the size of a pea, of a particular kindof plug tobacco under his tongue, --and this was not known to many people. Euphrasia could not be called a wasteful person, and Hilary hadaccumulated no small portion of this world's goods, and placed them aspropriety demanded, where they were not visible to the naked eye: and beit added in his favour that he gave as secretly, to institutions andhospitals the finances and methods of which were known to him. 

As concrete evidence of the Honourable Hilary Vane's importance, when hetravelled he had only to withdraw from his hip-pocket a book in whichmany coloured cards were neatly inserted, an open-sesame which permittedhim to sit without payment even in those wheeled palaces of luxury knownas Pullman cars. Within the limits of the State he did not even have toopen the book, but merely say, with a twinkle of his eyes to theconductor, "Good morning, John, " and John would reply with a bow and agenial and usually witty remark, and point him out to a nobody who sat inthe back of the car. So far had Mr. Hilary Vane's talents carried him. 

The beginning of this eminence dated back to the days before the Empire, when there were many little principalities of railroads fighting amongthemselves. For we are come to a changed America. There was a time, inthe days of the sixth Edward of England, when the great landowners foundit more profitable to consolidate the farms, seize the common lands, andacquire riches hitherto undreamed of. Hence the rising of tailor Ket andothers, and the leveling of fences and barriers, and the eating of manysheep. It may have been that Mr. Vane had come across this passage inEnglish history, but he drew no parallels. His first position of trusthad been as counsel for that principality known in the old days as theCentral Railroad, of which a certain Mr. Duncan had been president, andHilary Vane had fought the Central's battles with such telling effectthat when it was merged into the one Imperial Railroad, its stockholders--to the admiration of financiers--were guaranteed ten per cent. It was, indeed, rumoured that Hilary drew the Act of Consolidation itself. At anyrate, he was too valuable an opponent to neglect, and after a certaininterval of time Mr. Vane became chief counsel in the State for theImperial Railroad, on which dizzy height we now behold him. And he found, by degrees, that he had no longer time for private practice. 

It is perhaps gratuitous to add that the Honourable Hilary Vane was a manof convictions. In politics he would have told you--with some vehemence, if you seemed to doubt--that he was a Republican. Treason to party heregarded with a deep-seated abhorrence, as an act for which a man shouldbe justly outlawed. If he were in a mellow mood, with the right quantityof Honey Dew tobacco under his tongue, he would perhaps tell you why hewas a Republican, if he thought you worthy of his confidence. He believedin the gold standard, for one thing; in the tariff (left unimpaired inits glory) for another, and with a wave of his hand would indicate theprosperity of the nation which surrounded him, --a prosperity too sacredto tamper with. 

One article of his belief, and in reality the chief article, Mr. Vanewould not mention to you. It was perhaps because he had never formulatedthe article for himself. It might be called a faith in the divine rightof Imperial Railroads to rule, but it was left out of the verbal creed. This is far from implying hypocrisy to Mr. Vane. It was hisfoundation-rock and too sacred for light conversation. When he allowedhimself to be bitter against various "young men with missions" who hadsprung up in various States of the Union, so-called purifiers ofpolitics, he would call them the unsuccessful with a grievance, andrecommend to them the practice of charity, forbearance, and otherChristian virtues. Thank God, his State was not troubled with such. 

In person Mr. Hilary Vane was tall, with a slight stoop to his shoulders, and he wore the conventional double-breasted black coat, which reached tohis knees, and square-toed congress boots. He had a Puritan beard, thehawk-like Vane nose, and a twinkling eye that spoke of a sense of humourand a knowledge of the world. In short, he was no man's fool, and onoccasions had been more than a match for certain New York lawyers withnational reputations. 

It is rare, in this world of trouble, that such an apparently ideal andhappy state of existence is without a canker. And I have left therevelation of the canker to the last. Ripton knew it was there, CamdenStreet knew it, and Mr. Vane's acquaintances throughout the State; butnobody ever spoke of it. Euphrasia shed over it the only tears she hadknown since Sarah Austen died, and some of these blotted the only lettersshe wrote. Hilary Vane did not shed tears, but his friends suspected thathis heart-strings were torn, and pitied him. Hilary Vane fiercelyresented pity, and that was why they did not speak of it. This trouble ofhis was the common point on which he and Euphrasia touched, and theytouched only to quarrel. Let us out with it--Hilary Vane had a wild son, whose name was Austen. 

Euphrasia knew that in his secret soul Mr. Vane attributed this wildness, and what he was pleased to designate as profligacy, to the Austen blood. And Euphrasia resented it bitterly. Sarah Austen had been a young, elfishthing when he married her, --a dryad, the elderly and learned Mrs. Tredwayhad called her. Mr Vane had understood her about as well as he would haveunderstood Mary, Queen of Scots, if he had been married to that lady. Sarah Austen had a wild, shy beauty, startled, alert eyes like an animal, and rebellious black hair that curled about her ears and gave her afaun-like appearance. With a pipe and the costume of Rosalind she wouldhave been perfect. She had had a habit of running off for the day intothe hills with her son, and the conventions of Ripton had been to her asso many defunct blue laws. During her brief married life there had beenperiods of defiance from her lasting a week, when she would not speak toHilary or look at him, and these periods would be followed by violentspells of weeping in Euphrasia's arms, when the house was no place forHilary. He possessed by matrimony and intricate mechanism of which hisreally admirable brain could not grasp the first principles; he felt forher a real if uncomfortable affection, but when she died he heaved a sighof relief, at which he was immediately horrified. 

Austen he understood little better, but his affection for the child maybe likened to the force of a great river rushing through a narrow gorge, and he vied with Euphrasia in spoiling him. Neither knew what they weredoing, and the spoiling process was interspersed with occasional and (toAusten) unmeaning intervals of severe discipline. The boy loved thestreets and the woods and his fellow-beings; his punishments were aseries of afternoons in the house, during one of which he wrecked thebedroom where he was confined, and was soundly whaled with an old slipperthat broke under the process. Euphrasia kept the slipper, and once showedit to Hilary during a quarrel they had when the boy was grown up and goneand the house was silent, and Hilary had turned away, choking, and leftthe room. Such was his cross. 

To make it worse, the boy had love his father. Nay, still loved him. As alittle fellow, after a scolding for some wayward prank, he would throwhimself into Hilary's arms and cling to him, and would never know hownear he came to unmanning him. As Austen grew up, they saw the world indifferent colours: blue to Hilary was red to Austen, and white, black;essentials to one were non-essentials to the other; boys and girls, menand women, abhorred by one were boon companions to the other. 

Austen made fun of the minister, and was compelled to go church twice onSundays and to prayer-meeting on Wednesdays. Then he went to CamdenStreet, to live with his grandparents in the old Vane house and attendCamden Wentworth Academy. His letters, such as they were, were inimitableif crude, but contained not the kind of humour Hilary Vane knew. CamdenWentworth, principal and teachers, was painted to the life; and the ladcould hardly wait for vacation time to see his father, only to beginquarreling with him again. 

I pass over escapades in Ripton that shocked one half of the populationand convulsed the other half. Austen went to the college which his fatherhad attended, --a college of splendid American traditions, --and his careerthere might well have puzzled a father of far greater tolerance andcatholicity. Hilary Vane was a trustee, and journeyed more than once totalk the matter over with the president, who had been his classmatethere. 

"I love that boy, Hilary, " the president had said at length, when pressedfor a frank opinion, --"there isn't a soul in the place, I believe, thatdoesn't, --undergraduates and faculty, --but he has given me more anxiousthought than any scholar I have ever had. "

"Trouble, " corrected Mr. Vane, sententiously. 

"Well, yes, trouble, " answered the president, smiling, "but upon my soul, I think it is all animal spirits. "

"A euphemism for the devil, " said Hilary, grimly; "he is the animal partof us, I have been brought up to believe. "

The president was a wise man, and took another tack. 

"He has a really remarkable mind, when he chooses to use it. Every oncein a while he takes your breath away--but he has to become interested. Afew weeks ago Hays came to me direct from his lecture room to tell meabout a discussion of Austen's in constitutional law. Hays, you know, isnot easily enthused, but he declares your son has as fine a legal brainas he has come across in his experience. But since then, I am bound toadmit, " added the president, sadly, "Austen seems not to have looked at alesson. "

"'Unstable as water, thou shalt not excel, '" replied Hilary. 

"He'll sober down, " said the president, stretching his conviction alittle, "he has two great handicaps: he learns too easily, and he is toopopular. " The president looked out of his study window across the common, surrounded by the great elms which had been planted when Indian ladsplayed among the stumps and the red flag of England had flown from thetall pine staff. The green was covered now with students of a conqueringrace, skylarking to and fro as they looked on at a desultory baseballgame. "I verily believe, " said the president, "at a word from your son, most of them would put on their coats and follow him on any madexpedition that came into his mind. "

Hilary Vane groaned more than once in the train back to Ripton. It meantnothing to him to be the father of the most popular man in college. 

"The mad expedition" came at length in the shape of a fight with thetownspeople, in which Austen, of course, was the ringleader. If he hadinherited his mother's eccentricities, he had height and physique fromthe Vanes, and one result was a week in bed for the son of the localplumber and a damage suit against the Honourable Hilary. Another resultwas that Austen and a Tom Gaylord came back to Ripton on a longsuspension, which, rumour said, would have been expulsion if Hilary werenot a trustee. Tom Gaylord was proud of suspension in such company. Moreof him later. He was the son of old Tom Gaylord, who owned more lumberthan any man in the State, and whom Hilary Vane believed to be thereceptacle of all the vices. 

Eventually Austen went back and graduated--not summa cum laude, honestycompels me to add. Then came the inevitable discussion, and to please hisfather he went to the Harvard Law School for two years. At the end ofthat time, instead of returning to Ripton, a letter had come from himwith the postmark of a Western State, where he had fled with a classmatewho owned ranch. Evidently the worldly consideration to be derived fromconformity counted little with Austen Vane. Money was a medium only--notan end. He was in the saddle all day, with nothing but the horizon tolimit him; he loved his father, and did not doubt his father's love forhim, and he loved Euphrasia. He could support himself, but he must seelife. The succeeding years brought letters and quaint, useless presentsto both the occupants of the lonely house, --Navajo blankets and Indianjeweler and basket-work, --and Austen little knew how carefully these werepacked away and surreptitiously gazed at from time to time. But to Hilarythe Western career was a disgrace, and such meagre reports of it as camefrom other sources than Austen tended only to confirm him in thisopinion. 

It was commonly said of Mr. Paul Pardriff that not a newspaper fell fromthe press that he did not have a knowledge of its contents. Certain itwas that Mr. Pardriff made a specialty of many kinds of knowledge, political and otherwise, and, the information he could give--if he chose--about State and national affairs was of a recondite and cynical naturethat made one wish to forget about the American flag. Mr. Pardriff wasunder forty, and with these gifts many innocent citizens of Riptonnaturally wondered why the columns of his newspaper, the Ripton Record, did not more closely resemble the spiciness of his talk in the office ofGales' Hotel. The columns contained, instead, such efforts as essays on anational flower and the abnormal size of the hats of certain great men, notably Andrew Jackson; yes, and the gold standard; and in times ofpolitical stress they were devoted to a somewhat fulsome praise ofregular and orthodox Republican candidates, --and praise of any one wasnot in character with the editor. Ill-natured people said that the matterin his paper might possibly be accounted for by the gratitude of thecandidates, and the fact that Mr. Pardriff and his wife and hismaid-servant and his hired man travelled on pink mileage books, whichcould only be had for love--not money. On the other hand, reputablewitnesses had had it often from Mr. Pardriff that he was a reformer, andnot at all in sympathy with certain practices which undoubtedly existed. 

Some years before--to be exact, the year Austen Vane left the law school--Mr. Pardriff had proposed to exchange the Ripton Record with the editorof the Pepper County Plainsman in afar Western State. The exchange waseffected, and Mr. Pardriff glanced over the Plainsman regularly once aweek, though I doubt whether the Western editor ever read the Recordafter the first copy. One day in June Mr. Pardriff was seated in hissanctum above Merrill's drug store when his keen green eyes fell upon thefollowing:--"The Plainsman considers it safe to say that the sympathy ofthe people of Pepper County at large is with Mr. Austen Vane, whosepersonal difficulty with Jim Blodgett resulted so disastrously for Mr. Blodgett. The latter gentleman has long made himself obnoxious to localranch owners by his persistent disregard of property lines and property, and it will be recalled that he is at present in hot water with theenergetic Secretary of the Interior for fencing government lands. Vane, who was recently made manager of Ready Money Ranch, is one of the mostpopular young men in the county. He was unwillingly assisted over theState line by his friends. Although he has never been a citizen of theState, the Plainsman trusts that he may soon be back and become one ofus. At last report Mr. Blodgett was resting easily. "

This article obtained circulation in Ripton, although it was not copiedinto the Record out of deference to the feelings of the Honourable HilaryVane. In addition to the personal regard Mr. Pardriff professed to havefor the Honourable Hilary, it maybe well to remember that Austen's fatherwas, among other, things, chairman of the State Committee. Mr. Tredway(largest railroad stockholder in Ripton) pursed his lips that werealready pursed. Tom Gaylord roared with laughter. Two or three days laterthe Honourable Hilary, still in blissful ignorance, received a letterthat agitated him sorely. 

"DEAR FATHER: I hope you don't object to receiving a little visit from aprodigal, wayward son. To tell the truth, I have found it convenient toleave the Ready Money Ranch for a while, although Bob Tyner is goodenough to say I may have the place when I come back. You know I oftenthink of you and Phrasie back in Ripton, and I long to see the dear oldtown again. Expect me when you see me. 

"Your aff. Son, "AUSTEN. "

CHAPTER II

ON THE TREATMENT OF PRODIGALS

While Euphrasia, in a frenzy of anticipation, garnished and swept theroom which held for her so many memories of Austen's boyhood, evenbeating the carpet with her own hands, Hilary Vane went about hisbusiness with no apparent lack of diligence. But he was meditating. Hehad many times listened to the Reverend Mr. Weightman read the parablefrom the pulpit, but he had never reflected how it would be to be thefather of a real prodigal. What was to be done about the calf? Was thereto be a calf, or was there not? To tell the truth, Hilary wanted a calf, and yet to have one (in spite of Holy Writ) would seem to set a premiumon disobedience and riotous living. 

Again, Austen had reached thirty, an age when it was not likely he wouldsettle down and live an orderly and godly life among civilized beings, and therefore a fatted calf was likely to be the first of many follieswhich he (Hilary) would live to regret. No, he would deal with justice. How he dealt will be seen presently, but when he finally reached thisconclusion, the clipping from the Pepper County Plainsman had not yetcome before his eyes. 

It is worth relating how the clipping did come before his eyes, for noone in Ripton had the temerity to speak of it. Primarily, it was becauseMiss Victoria Flint had lost a terrier, and secondarily, because she wasa person of strong likes and dislikes. In pursuit of the terrier shedrove madly through Leith, which, as everybody knows, is a famous colonyof rich summer residents. Victoria probably stopped at every house inLeith, and searched them with characteristic vigour and lack of ceremony, sometimes entering by the side door, and sometimes by the front, andcaring very little whether the owners were at home or not. Mr. HumphreyCrewe discovered her in a boa-stall at Wedderburn, --as his place wascalled, --for it made little difference to Victoria that Mr. Crewe was abachelor of marriageable age and millions. Full, as ever, of practicalsuggestions, Mr. Crewe proposed to telephone to Ripton and put anadvertisement in the Record, which--as he happened to know--went to pressthe next day. Victoria would not trust to the telephone, whereupon Mr. Crewe offered to drive down with her. 

"You'd bore me, Humphrey, " said she, as she climbed into her runaboutwith the father and grandfather of the absentee. Mr. Crewe laughed as shedrove away. He had a chemical quality of turning invidious remarks intocompliments, and he took this one as Victoria's manner of saying that shedid not wish to disturb so important a man. 

Arriving in the hot main street of Ripton, her sharp eyes descried theRecord sign over the drug store, and in an astonishingly short time shewas in the empty office. Mr. Pardriff was at dinner. She sat down in theeditorial chair and read a great deal of uninteresting matter, but atlast found something on the floor (where the wind had blown it) whichmade her laugh. It was the account of Austen Vane's difficulty with Mr. Blodgett. Victoria did not know Austen, but she knew that the HonourableHilary had a son of that name who had gone West, and this was whattickled her. She thrust the clipping in the pocket of her linen coat justas Mr. Pardriff came in. 

Her conversation with the editor of the Record proved so entertainingthat she forgot all about the clipping until she had reached Fairview, and had satisfied a somewhat imperious appetite by a combination of lunchand afternoon tea. Fairview was the "summer place" of Mr. Augustus P. Flint, her father, on a shelf of the hills in the town of Tunbridge, equidistant from Leith and Ripton: and Mr. Flint was the president of theImperial Railroad, no less. 

Yes, he had once been plain Gus Flint, many years ago, when he used tofetch the pocket-handkerchiefs of Mr. Isaac D. Worthington of Brampton, and he was still "Gus" to his friends. Mr. Flint's had been the brainwhich had largely conceived and executed the consolidation ofprincipalities of which the Imperial Railroad was the result and, assurely as tough metal prevails, Mr. Flint, after many other trials anderrors of weaker stuff, had been elected to the place for which he was sosupremely fitted. We are so used in America to these tremendous risesthat a paragraph will suffice to place Mr. Flint in his Aladdin's palace. To do him justice, he cared not a fig for the palace, and he would havebeen content with the farmhouse under the hill where his gardener lived. You could not fool Mr. Flint on a horse or a farm, and he knew to a dotwhat a railroad was worth by travelling over it. Like hisgovernor-general and dependent, Mr. Hilary Vane, he had married a wifewho had upset all his calculations. The lady discovered Mr. Flint'sbalance in the bank, and had proceeded to use it for her ownglorification, and the irony of it all was that he could defend it fromeverybody else. Mrs. Flint spent, and Mr. Flint paid the bills; for thefirst ten years protestingly, and after that he gave it up and let her goher own gait. 

She had come from the town of Sharon, in another State, through which Mr. Flint's railroad also ran, and she had been known as the Rose of thatplace. She had begun to rise immediately, with the kite-like adaptabilityof the American woman for high altitudes, and the leaden weight of thehusband at the end of the tail was as nothing to her. She had begun itall by the study of people in hotels while Mr. Flint was closeted withofficials and directors. By dint of minute observation and reasoningpowers and unflagging determination she passed rapidly through severalstrata, and had made a country place out of her husband's farm inTunbridge, so happily and conveniently situated near Leith. In winterthey lived on Fifth Avenue. 

One daughter alone had halted, for a minute period, this progress, andthis daughter was Victoria--named by her mother. Victoria was nowtwenty-one, and was not only of another generation, but might almost havebeen judged of another race than her parents. The things for which hermother had striven she took for granted, and thought of them not at all, and she had by nature that simplicity and astonishing frankness of mannerand speech which was once believed to be an exclusive privilege ofduchesses. 

To return to Fairview. Victoria, after sharing her five o'clock luncheonwith her dogs, went to seek her father, for the purpose (if it must betold) of asking him for a cheque. Mr. Flint was at Fairview on theaverage of two days out of the week during the summer, and then he wasnearly always closeted with a secretary and two stenographers and along-distance telephone in two plain little rooms at the back of thehouse. And Mr. Hilary Vane was often in consultation with him, as he wason the present occasion when Victoria flung open the door. At sight ofMr. Vane she halted suddenly on the threshold, and a gleam of mischiefcame into her eye as she thrust her hand into her coat pocket. The tworegarded her with the detached air of men whose thread of thought hasbeen broken. 

"Well, Victoria, " said her father, kindly if resignedly, "what is itnow?"

"Money, " replied Victoria, promptly; "I went to Avalon this morning andbought that horse you said I might have. "

"What horse?" asked Mr. Flint, vaguely. "But never mind. Tell Mr. Freemanto make out the cheque. "

Mr. Vane glanced at Mr. Flint, and his eyes twinkled. Victoria, who hadlong ago discovered the secret of the Honey Dew, knew that he was rollingit under his tongue and thinking her father a fool for his indulgence. 

"How do you do, Mr. Vane?" she said; "Austen's coming home, isn't he?"She had got this by feminine arts out of Mr. Paul Pardriff, to whom shehad not confided the fact of her possession of the clipping. 

The Honourable Hilary gave a grunt, as he always did when he wassurprised and displeased, as though some one had prodded him with a stickin a sensitive spot. 

"Your son? Why, Vane, you never told me that, " said Mr. Flint. "I didn'tknow that you knew him, Victoria. "

"I don't, " answered Victoria, "but I'd like to. What did he do to Mr. Blodgett?" she demanded of Hilary. 

"Mr. Blodgett!" exclaimed that gentleman. "I never heard of him. What'shappened to him?"

"He will probably recover, " she assured him. 

The Honourable Hilary, trying in vain to suppress his agitation, rose tohis feet. 

"I don't know what you're talking about, Victoria, " he said, but hisglance was fixed on the clipping in her hand. 

"Haven't you seen it?" she asked, giving it to him. 

He read it in silence, groaned, and handed it to Mr. Flint, who had beendrumming on the table and glancing at Victoria with vague disapproval. Mr. Flint read it and gave it back to the Honourable Hilary, who groanedagain and looked out of the window. 

"Why do you feel badly about it?" asked Victoria. "I'd be proud of him, if I were you. "

"Proud of him" echoed Mr. Vane, grimly. "Proud of him!"

"Victoria, what do you mean?" said Mr. Flint. 

"Why not?" said Victoria. "He's done nothing to make you ashamed. According to that clipping, he's punished a man who richly deserved to bepunished, and he has the sympathy of an entire county. "

Hilary Vane was not a man to discuss his domestic affliction withanybody, so he merely grunted and gazed persistently out of the window, and was not aware of the fact that Victoria made a little face at him asshe left the room. The young are not always impartial judges of the old, and Victoria had never forgiven him for carrying to her father the newsof an escapade of hers in Ripton. 

As he drove through the silent forest roads on his way homeward thatafternoon, the Honourable Hilary revolved the new and intenselydisagreeable fact in his mind as to how he should treat a prodigal whohad attempted manslaughter and was a fugitive from justice. In themeantime a tall and spare young man of a red-bronze colour alighted fromthe five o'clock express at Ripton and grinned delightedly at thegentlemen who made the station their headquarters about train time. Theywere privately disappointed that the gray felt hat, althoughbroad-brimmed, was not a sombrero, and the respectable, loose-fittingsuit of clothes was not of buckskin with tassels on the trousers; andlikewise that he came without the cartridge belt and holster which theyhad pictured in anticipatory sessions on the baggage-trucks. There couldbe no doubt of the warmth of their greeting as they sidled up and seizeda hand somewhat larger than theirs, but the welcome had in it aningredient of awe that puzzled the newcomer, who did not hesitate toinquire:--"What's the matter, Ed? Why so ceremonious, Perley?"

But his eagerness did not permit him to wait for explanations. Graspinghis bag, the only baggage he possessed, he started off at a swingingstride for Hanover Street, pausing only to shake the hands of the few whorecognized him, unconscious of the wild-fire at his back. Hanover Streetwas empty that drowsy summer afternoon, and he stopped under thewell-remembered maples before the house and gazed at it long andtenderly; even at the windows of that room--open now for the first timein years--where he had served so many sentences of imprisonment. Then hewent cautiously around by the side and looked in at the kitchen door. Toother eyes than his Euphrasia might not have seemed a safe person toembrace, but in a moment he had her locked in his arms and weeping. Sheknew nothing as yet of Mr. Blodgett's misfortunes, but if Austen Vane haddepopulated a county it would have made no difference in her affection. 

"My, but you're a man, " exclaimed Euphrasia, backing away at last andstaring at him with the only complete approval she had ever accorded toany human being save one. 

"What did you expect, Phrasie?"

"Come, and I'll show you your room, " she said, in a gutter she could nothide; "it's got all the same pictures in, your mother's pictures, and thechair you broke that time when Hilary locked you in. It's mended. "

"Hold on, Phrasie, " said Austen, seizing her by the apron-strings, "howabout the Judge?" It was by this title he usually designated his father. 

"What about him?" demanded Euphrasia, sharply. 

"Well, it's his house, for one thing, " answered Austen, "and he mayprefer to have that room--empty. "

"Empty! Turn you out? I'd like to see him, " cried Euphrasia. "It wouldn'ttake me long to leave him high and dry. "

She paused at the sound of wheels, and there was the Honourable Hilary, across the garden patch, in the act of slipping out of his buggy at thestable door. In the absence of Luke, the hired man, the chief counsel forthe railroad was wont to put up the horse himself, and he already had thereins festooned from the bit rings when he felt a heavy, hand on hisshoulder and heard a voice say:--"How are you, Judge?"

If the truth be told, that voice and that touch threw the HonourableHilary's heart out of beat. Many days he had been schooling himself forthis occasion: this very afternoon he had determined his course ofaction, which emphatically did not include a fatted calf. And now surgedup a dryad-like memory which had troubled him many a wakeful night, ofstartled, appealing eyes that sought his in vain, and of the son she hadleft him flinging himself into his arms in the face of chastisement. Forthe moment Hilary Vane, under this traitorous influence, was unable tospeak. But he let the hand rest on his shoulder, and at length was ableto pronounce, in a shamefully shaky voice, the name of his son. WhereuponAusten seized him by the other shoulder and turned him round and lookedinto his face. 

"The same old Judge, " he said. 

But Hilary was startled, even as Euphrasia had been. Was this strange, bronzed, quietly humorous young man his son? Hilary even had to raise hiseyes a little; he had forgotten how tall Austen was. Strange emotions, unbidden and unwelcome, ran riot in his breast; and Hilary Vane, who madeno slips before legislative committees or supreme courts, actually foundhimself saying:--"Euphrasia's got your room ready. "

"It's good of you to take me in, Judge, " said Austen, patting hisshoulder. And then he began, quite naturally to unbuckle the breechingsand loose the traces, which he did with such deftness and celerity thathe had the horse unharnessed and in the stall in a twinkling, and hadhauled the buggy through the stable door, the Honourable Hilary watchinghim the while. He was troubled, but for the life of him could find noadequate words, who usually had the dictionary at his disposal. 

"Didn't write me why you came home, " said the Honourable Hilary, as hisson washed his hands at the spigot. 

"Didn't I? Well, the truth was I wanted to see you again, Judge. "

His father grunted, not with absolute displeasure, but suspiciously. 

"How about Blodgett?" he asked. 

"Blodgett? Have you heard about that? Who told you?"

"Never mind. You didn't. Nothing in your letter about it. "

"It wasn't worth mentioning, " replied Austen. "Tyner and the boys likedit pretty well, but I didn't think you'd be interested. It was a localaffair. "

"Not interested! Not worth mentioning!" exclaimed the Honourable Hilary, outraged to discover that his son was modestly deprecating an achievementinstead of defending a crime. "Godfrey! murder ain't worth mentioning, Ipresume. "

"Not when it isn't successful, " said Austen. "If Blodgett had succeeded, I guess you'd have heard of it before you did. "

"Do you mean to say this Blodgett tried to kill you?" demanded theHonourable Hilary. 

"Yes, " said his son, "and I've never understood why he didn't. He's agood deal better shot than I am. "

The Honourable Hilary grunted, and sat down on a bucket and carefullyprepared a piece of Honey Dew. He was surprised and agitated. 

"Then why are you a fugitive from justice if you were acting inself-defence?" he inquired. 

"Well, you see there were no witnesses, except a Mexican of Blodgett's, and Blodgett runs the Pepper County machine for the railroad out there. I'd been wanting to come East and have a look at you for some time, and Ithought I might as well come now. "

"How did this--this affair start?" asked Mr. Vane. 

"Blodgett was driving in some of Tyner's calves, and I caught him. I toldhim what I thought of him, and he shot at me through his pocket. That wasall. "

"All! You shot him, didn't you?"

"I was lucky enough to hit him first, " said Austen. 

Extraordinary as it may seem, the Honourable Hilary experienced a senseof pride. 

"Where did you hit him?" he asked. 

It was Euphrasia who took matters in her own hands and killed the fattedcalf, and the meal to which they presently sat down was very differentfrom the frugal suppers Mr. Vane usually had. But he made no comment. Itis perhaps not too much to say that he would have been distinctlydisappointed had it been otherwise. There was Austen's favourite pie, andAusten's favourite cake, all inherited from the Austens, who had thoughtmore of the fleshpots than people should. And the prodigal did fulljustice to the occasion. 

CHAPTER III

CONCERNING THE PRACTICE OF LAW

So instinctively do we hark back to the primeval man that there was atendency to lionize the prodigal in Ripton, which proves the finishedcivilization of the East not to be so far removed from that land ofoutlaws, Pepper County. Mr. Paul Pardriff, who had a guilty conscienceabout the clipping, and vividly bearing in mind Mr. Blodgett's mishap, alone avoided young Mr. Vane; and escaped through the type-setting roomand down an outside stairway in the rear when that gentleman called. Itgave an ironical turn to the incident that Mr. Pardriff was at the momentengaged in a "Welcome Home" paragraph meant to be propitiatory. 

Austen cared very little for lionizing. He spent most of his time withyoung Tom Gaylord, now his father's right-hand man in a tremendous lumberbusiness. And Tom, albeit he had become so important, habitually fellonce more under the domination of the hero of his youthful days. Togetherthese two visited haunts of their boyhood, camping and fishing andscaling mountains, Tom with an eye to lumbering prospects the while. 

After a matter of two or three months bad passed away in this pleasantthough unprofitable manner, the Honourable Hilary requested the presenceof his son one morning at his office. This office was in what had oncebeen a large residence, and from its ample windows you could look outthrough the elms on to the square. Old-fashioned bookcases lined withmusty books filled the walls, except where a steel engraving of a legallight or a railroad map of the State was hung, and the Honourable Hilarysat in a Windsor chair at a mahogany table in the middle. 

The anteroom next door, where the clerks sat, was also a waiting-room forvarious individuals from the different parts of the State who continuallysought the counsel's presence. 

"Haven't seen much of you since you've be'n home, Austen, " his fatherremarked as an opening. 

"Your--legal business compels you to travel a great deal, " answeredAusten, turning from the window and smiling. 

"Somewhat, " said the Honourable Hilary, on whom this pleasantry was notlost. "You've be'n travelling on the lumber business, I take it. "

"I know more about it than I did, " his son admitted. 

The Honourable Hilary grunted. 

"Caught a good many fish, haven't you?"

Austen crossed the room and sat on the edge of the desk beside hisfather's chair. 

"See here, Judge, " he said, "what are you driving at? Out with it. "

"When are you--going back West?" asked Mr. Vane. 

Austen did not answer at once, but looked down into his father'sinscrutable face. 

"Do you want to get rid of me?" he said. 

"Sowed enough wild oats, haven't you?" inquired the father. 

"I've sowed a good many, " Austen admitted. 

"Why not settle down?"

"I haven't yet met the lady, Judge, " replied his son. 

"Couldn't support her if you had, " said Mr. Vane. 

"Then it's fortunate, " said Austen, resolved not to be the necessarysecond in a quarrel. He knew his father, and perceived that thesepreliminary and caustic openings of his were really olive branches. 

"Sometimes I think you might as well be in that outlandish country, forall I see of you, " said the Honourable Hilary. 

"You ought to retire from business and try fishing, " his son suggested. 

The Honourable Hilary sometimes smiled. 

"You've got a good brain, Austen, and what's the use of wasting itchasing cattle and practising with a pistol on your fellow-beings? Youwon't have much trouble in getting admitted to the bar. Come into theoffice. "

Austen did not answer at once. He suspected that it had cost his fathernot a little to make these advances. 

"Do you believe you and I could get along, Judge? How long do you thinkit would last?"

"I've considered that some, " answered the Honourable Hilary, "but I won'tlast a great while longer myself. "

"You're as sound as a bronco, " declared Austen, patting him. 

"I never was what you might call dissipated, " agreed Mr. Vane, "but mendon't go on forever. I've worked hard all my life, and got where I am, and I've always thought I'd like to hand it on to you. It's a position ofhonour and trust, Austen, and one of which any lawyer might be proud. "

"My ambition hasn't run in exactly that channel, " said his son. 

"Didn't know as you had any precise ambition, " responded the HonourableHilary, "but I never heard of a man refusing to be chief counsel for agreat railroad. I don't say you can be, mind, but I say with work andbrains it's as easy for the son of Hilary Vane as for anybody else. "

"I don't know much about the duties of such a position, " said Austen, laughing, "but at all events I shall have time to make up my mind how toanswer Mr. Flint when he comes to me with the proposal. To speak frankly, Judge, I hadn't thought of spending the whole of what might otherwiseprove a brilliant life in Ripton. "

The Honourable Hilary smiled again, and then he grunted. 

"I tell you what I'll do, " he said; "you come in with me and agree tostay five years. If you've done well for yourself, and want to go to NewYork or some large place at the end of that time, I won't hinder you. ButI feel it my duty to say, if you don't accept my offer, no son of mineshall inherit what I've laid up by hard labour. It's against Americandoctrine, and it's against my principles. You can go back to PepperCounty and get put in jail, but you can't say I haven't warned youfairly. "

"You ought to leave your fortune to the railroad, Judge, " said Austen. "Generations to come would bless your name if you put up a new station inRipton and built bridges over Bunker Hill grade crossing and the otherone on Heath Street where Nic Adams was killed last month. I shouldn'tbegrudge a cent of the money. "

"I suppose I was a fool to talk to you, " said the Honourable Hilary, getting up. 

But his son pushed him down again into the Windsor chair. 

"Hold on, Judge, " he said, "that was just my way of saying if I acceptedyour offer, it wouldn't be because I yearned after the money. Thinking ofit has never kept me awake nights. Now if you'll allow me to take a fewdays once in a while to let off steam, I'll make a counter proposal, inthe nature of a compromise. "

"What's that?" the Honourable Hilary demanded suspiciously. 

"Provided I get admitted to the bar I will take a room in another part ofthis building and pick up what crumbs of practice I can by myself. Ofcourse, sir, I realize that these, if they come at all, will be owing tothe lustre of your name. But I should, before I become Mr. Flint'sright-hand man, like to learn to walk with my own legs. "

The speech pleased the Honourable Hilary, and he put out his hand. 

"It's a bargain, Austen, " he said. 

"I don't mind telling you now, Judge, that when I left the West I left itfor good, provided you and I could live within a decent proximity. And Iought to add that I always intended going into the law after I'd had afling. It isn't fair to leave you with the impression that this is asudden determination. Prodigals don't become good as quick as all that. "

Ripton caught its breath a second time the day Austen hired a law office, nor did the surprise wholly cease when, in one season, he was admitted tothe bar, for the proceeding was not in keeping with the habits andcustoms of prodigals. Needless to say, the practice did not immediatelybegin to pour in, but the little office rarely lacked a visitor, andsometimes had as many as five or six. There was an irresistibleattraction about that room, and apparently very little law read there, though sometimes its occupant arose and pushed the visitors into the halland locked the door, and opened the window at the top to let the smokeout. Many of the Honourable Hilary's callers preferred the little room inthe far corridor to the great man's own office. 

These visitors of the elder Mr. Vane's, as has been before hinted, werenot all clients. Without burdening the reader too early with a treatiseon the fabric of a system, suffice it to say that something wascontinually going on that was not law; and gentlemen came and went--fatand thin, sharp-eyed and red-faced--who were neither clients nor lawyers. These were really secretive gentlemen, though most of them had ahail-fellow-well-met manner and a hearty greeting, but when they talkedto the Honourable Hilary it was with doors shut, and even then they satvery close to his ear. Many of them preferred now to wait in Austen'soffice instead of the anteroom, and some of them were not so cautiouswith the son of Hilary Vane that they did not let drop certainobservations to set him thinking. He had a fanciful if somewhat facetiousway of calling them by feudal titles which made them grin. 

"How is the Duke of Putnam this morning?" he would ask of the gentlemanof whom the Ripton Record would frequently make the followingannouncement: "Among the prominent residents of Putnam County in townthis week was the Honourable Brush Bascom. "

The Honourable Brush and many of his associates, barons and earls, albeitthe shrewdest of men, did not know exactly how to take the son of HilaryVane. This was true also of the Honourable Hilary himself, who did notwholly appreciate the humour in Austen's parallel of the feudal system. Although Austen had set up for himself, there were many ways--not legal--in which the son might have been helpful to the father, but theHonourable Hilary hesitated, for some unformulated reason, to make use ofhim; and the consequence was that Mr. Hamilton Tooting and other youngmen of a hustling nature in the Honourable Hilary's office found thatAusten's advent did not tend greatly to lighten a certain class of theirlabours. In fact, father and son were not much nearer in spirit than whenode had been in Pepper County and the other in Ripton. Caution and aninstinct which senses obstacles are characteristics of gentlemen in Mr. Vane's business. 

So two years passed, --years liberally interspersed with expeditions intothe mountains and elsewhere, and nights spent in the company of TomGaylord and others. During this period Austen was more than once assailedby the temptation to return to the free life of Pepper County, Mr. Blodgett having completely recovered now, and only desiring vengeance ofa corporal nature. But a bargain was a bargain, and Austen Vane stuck tohis end of it, although he had now begun to realize many aspects of asituation which he had not before suspected. He had long foreseen, however, that the time was coming when a serious disagreement with hisfather was inevitable. In addition to the difference in temperament, Hilary Vane belonged to one generation and Austen to another. 

It happened, as do so many incidents which tend to shape a life, by aseeming chance. It was a Tune evening, and there had been a churchsociable and basket picnic during the day in a grove in the town ofMercer, some ten miles south of Ripton. The grove was bounded on one sideby the railroad track, and merged into a thick clump of second growth andalders where there was a diagonal grade crossing. The picnic was over andthe people preparing to go home when they were startled by a crash, followed by the screaming of brakes as a big engine flew past the groveand brought a heavy train to a halt some distance down the grade. Thewomen shrieked and dropped the dishes they were washing, and the men lefttheir horses standing and ran to the crossing and then stood for themoment helpless, in horror at the scene which met their eyes. The wagonof one--of their own congregation was in splinters, a man (a farmer ofthe neighbourhood) lying among the alders with what seemed a mortalinjury. Amid the lamentations and cries for some one to go to MercerVillage for the doctor a young man drove up rapidly and sprang out of abuggy, trusting to some one to catch his horse, pushed, through the ringof people, and bent over the wounded farmer. In an instant he had whippedout a knife, cut a stick from one of the alders, knotted his handkerchiefaround the man's leg, ran the stick through the knot, and twisted thehandkerchief until the blood ceased to flow. They watched him, paralyzed, as the helpless in this world watch the capable, and before he hadfinished his task the train crew and some passengers began to arrive. 

"Have you a doctor aboard, Charley?" the young man asked. 

"No, " answered the conductor, who had been addressed; "my God, not one, Austen. "

"Back up your train, " said Austen, "and stop your baggage car here. Andgo to the grove, " he added to one of the picnickers, "and bring four orfive carriage cushions. And you hold this. "

The man beside him took the tourniquet, as he was bid. Austen Vane drew anote-book from his pocket. 

"I want this man's name and address, " he said, "and the names andaddresses of every person here, quickly. "

He did not lift his voice, but the man who had taken charge of such asituation was not to be denied. They obeyed him, some eagerly, somereluctantly, and by that time the train had backed down and the cushionshad arrived. They laid these on the floor of the baggage car and liftedthe man on to them. His name was Zeb Meader, and he was still insensible. Austen Vane, with a peculiar set look upon his face, sat beside him allthe way into Ripton. He spoke only once, and that was to tell theconductor to telegraph from Avalon to have the ambulance from St. Mary'sHospital meet the train at Ripton. 

The next day Hilary Vane, returning from one of his periodical trips tothe northern part of the State, invaded his son's office. 

"What's this they tell me about your saving a man's life?" he asked, sinking into one of the vacant chairs and regarding Austen with histwinkling eyes. 

"I don't know what they tell you, " Austen answered. "I didn't do anythingbut get a tourniquet on his leg and have him put on the train. "

The Honourable Hilary grunted, and continued to regard his son. Then hecut a piece of Honey Dew. 

"Looks bad, does it?" he said. 

"Well, " replied Austen, "it might have been done better. It was bungled. In a death-trap as cleverly conceived as that crossing, with a down gradeapproaching it, they ought to have got the horse too. "

The Honourable Hilary grunted again, and inserted the Honey Dew. Heresolved to ignore the palpable challenge in this remark, which was inkeeping with this new and serious mien in Austen. 

"Get the names of witnesses?" was his next question. 

"I took particular pains to do so. "

"Hand 'em over to Tooting. What kind of man is this Meagre?"

"He is rather meagre now, " said Austen, smiling a little. "His name'sMeader. "

"Is he likely to make a fuss?"

"I think he is, " said Austen. 

"Well, " said the Honourable Hilary, "we must have Ham Tooting hurry'round and fix it up with him as soon as he can talk, before one of thesecormorant lawyers gets his claw in him. "

Austen said nothing, and after some desultory conversation, in which heknew how to indulge when he wished to conceal the fact that he wasbaffled, the Honourable Hilary departed. That student of human nature, Mr. Hamilton Tooting, a young man of a sporting appearance and a freevocabulary, made the next attempt. It is a characteristic of Mr. Tooting's kind that, in their efforts to be genial, they often use anawkward diminutive of their friends' names. 

"Hello, Aust, " said Mr. Tooting, "I dropped in to get those witnesses inthat Meagre accident, before I forget it. "

"I think I'll keep 'em, " said Austen, making a note out of the RevisedStatutes. 

"Oh, all right, all right, " said Mr. Tooting, biting off a piece of hiscigar. "Going to handle the case yourself, are you?"

"I may. "

"I'm just as glad to have some of 'em off my hands, and this looks to melike a nasty one. I don't like those Mercer people. The last farmer theyran over there raised hell. "

"I shouldn't blame this one if he did, if he ever gets well enough, " saidAusten. Young Mr. Tooting paused with a lighted match halfway to hiscigar and looked at Austen shrewdly, and then sat down on the desk veryclose to him. 

"Say, Aust, it sometimes sickens a man to have to buy these fellows off. What? Poor devils, they don't get anything like what they ought to get, do they? Wait till you see how the Railroad Commission'll whitewash thatcase. It makes a man want to be independent. What?"

"This sounds like virtue, Ham. "

"I've often thought, too, " said Mr. Tooting, "that a man could make moremoney if he didn't wear the collar. "

"But not sleep as well, perhaps, " said Austen. 

"Say, Aust, you're not on the level with me. "

"I hope to reach that exalted plane some day, Ham. "

"What's got into you?" demanded the usually clear-headed Mr. Tooting, nowa little bewildered. 

"Nothing, yet, " said Austen, "but I'm thinking seriously of having asandwich and a piece of apple pie. Will you come along?"

They crossed the square together, Mr. Tooting racking a normally fertilebrain for some excuse to reopen the subject. Despairing of that, hedecided that any subject would do. 

"That Humphrey Crewe up at Leith is smart--smart as paint, " he remarked. "Do you know him?"

"I've seen him, " said Austen. "He's a young man, isn't he?"

"And natty. He knows a thing or two for a millionaire that don't have towork, and he runs that place of his right up to the handle. You ought tohear him talk about the tariff, and national politics. I was passingthere the other day, and he was walking around among the flowerbeds. 'Ain't your name Tooting?' he hollered. I almost fell out of the buggy. "

"What did he want?" asked Austen, curiously. Mr. Tooting winked. 

"Say, those millionaires are queer, and no mistake. You'd think a fellowthat only had to cut coupons wouldn't be lookin' for another job, wouldn't you? He made me hitch my horse, and had me into his study, as hecalled it, and gave me a big glass of whiskey and soda. A fellow withbuttons and a striped vest brought it on tiptoe. Then this Crewe gave mea long yellow cigar with a band on it and told me what the State needed, --macadam roads, farmers' institutes, forests, and God knows what. I toldhim all he had to do was to get permission from old man Flint, and hecould have 'em. "

"What did he say to that?"

"He said Flint was an intimate friend of his. Then he asked me a wholeraft of questions about fellows in the neighbourhood I didn't know he'dever heard of. Say, he wants to go from Leith to the Legislature. "

"He can go for all I care, " said Austen, as he pushed open the door ofthe restaurant. 

For a few days Mr. Meader hung between life and death. But he came of astock which had for generations thrust its roots into the crevices ofgranite, and was not easily killed by steam-engines. Austen Vane calledtwice, and then made an arrangement with young Dr. Tredway (one of thenumerous Ripton Tredways whose money had founded the hospital) that hewas to see Mr. Meader as soon as he was able to sustain a conversation. Dr. Tredway, by the way, was a bachelor, and had been Austen's companionon many a boisterous expedition. 

When Austen, in response to the doctor's telephone message, stood overthe iron bed in the spick-and-span men's ward of St. Mary's, a wave ofthat intense feeling he had experienced at the accident swept over him. The farmer's beard was overgrown, and the eyes looked up at him as fromcaverns of suffering below the bandage. They were shrewd eyes, however, and proved that Mr. Meader had possession of the five senses--nay, of thesix. Austen sat down beside the bed. 

"Dr. Tredway tells me you are getting along finely, " he said. 

"No thanks to the railrud, " answered Mr. Meader; "they done their best. "

"Did you hear any whistle or any bell?" Austen asked. 

"Not a sound, " said Mr. Meader; "they even shut off their steam on thatgrade. "

Austen Vane, like most men who are really capable of a deep sympathy, wasnot an adept at expressing it verbally. Moreover, he knew enough of hisfellow-men to realize that a Puritan farmer would be suspicious ofsympathy. The man had been near to death himself, was compelled to spendpart of the summer, his bread-earning season, in a hospital, and yet noappeal or word of complaint had crossed his lips. 

"Mr. Meader, " said Austen, "I came over here to tell you that in myopinion you are entitled to heavy damages from the railroad, and toadvise you not to accept a compromise. They will send some one to you andoffer you a sum far below that which you ought in justice to receive, Youought to fight this case. "

"How am I going to pay a lawyer, with a mortgage on my farm?" demandedMr. Meader. 

"I'm a lawyer, " said Austen, "and if you'll take me, I'll defend youwithout charge. "

"Ain't you the son of Hilary Vane?"

"Yes. "

"I've heard of him a good many times, " said Mr. Meader, as if to ask whatman had not. "You're railroad, ain't ye?"

Mr. Meader gazed long and thoughtfully into the young man's face, and thesuspicion gradually faded from the farmer's blue eyes. 

"I like your looks, " he said at last. "I guess you saved my life. I'm--I'm much obliged to you. "

When Mr. Tooting arrived later in the day, he found Mr. Meader willing tolisten, but otherwise strangely non-committal. With native shrewdness, the farmer asked him what office he came from, but did not confide in Mr. Tooting the fact that Mr. Vane's son had volunteered to wring more moneyfrom Mr. Vane's client than Mr. Tooting offered him. Considerablybewildered, that gentleman left the hospital to report the affair to theHonourable Hilary, who, at intervals during the afternoon, found himselfrelapsing into speculation. 

Inside of a somewhat unpromising shell, Mr. Zeb Meader was a human being, and no mean judge of men and motives. As his convalescence progressed, Austen Vane fell into the habit of dropping in from time to time to chatwith him, and gradually was rewarded by many vivid character sketches ofMr. Meader's neighbours in Mercer and its vicinity. One afternoon, whenAusten came into the ward, he found at Mr. Meader's bedside a basket offruit which looked too expensive and tempting to have come from anydealer's in Ripton. 

"A lady came with that, " Mr. Meader explained. "I never was popularbefore I was run over by the cars. She's be'n here twice. When shefetched it to-day, I kind of thought she was up to some, game, and Ididn't want to take it. "

"Up to some game?" repeated Austen. 

"Well, I don't know, " continued Mr. Meader, thoughtfully, "the woman heretells me she comes regular in the summer time to see sick folks, but fromthe way she made up to me I had an idea that she wanted something. But Idon't know. Thought I'd ask you. You see, she's railrud. "

"Railroad!"

"She's Flint's daughter. "

Austen laughed. 

"I shouldn't worry about that, " he said. "If Mr. Flint sent his daughterwith fruit to everybody his railroad injures, she wouldn't have time todo anything else. I doubt if Mr. Flint ever heard of your case. "

Mr. Meader considered this, and calculated there was something in it. 

"She was a nice, common young lady, and cussed if she didn't make melaugh, she has such a funny way of talkin'. She wanted to know all aboutyou. "

"What did she want to know?" Austen exclaimed, not unnaturally. 

"Well, she wanted to know about the accident, and I told her how you druvup and screwed that thing around my leg and backed the train down. Shewas a good deal took with that. "

"I think you are inclined to make too much of it, " said Austen. 

Three days later, as he was about to enter the ward, Mr. Meader being nowthe only invalid there, he heard a sound which made him pause in thedoorway. The sound was feminine laughter of a musical quality that struckpleasantly on Austen's ear. Miss Victoria Flint was sated beside Mr. Meader's bed, and qualified friendship had evidently been replaced byintimacy since Austen's last visit, for Mr. Meader was laughing, too. 

"And now I'm quite sure you have missed your vocation, Mr. Meader, " saidVictoria. "You would have made a fortune on the stage. "

"Me a play-actor!" exclaimed the invalid. "How much wages do they git?"

"Untold sums, " she declared, "if they can talk like you. "

"He kind of thought that story funny--same as you, " Mr. Meader ruminated, and glanced up. "Drat me, " he remarked, "if he ain't a-comin' now! Icallated he'd run acrost you sometime. "

Victoria raised her eyes, sparkling with humour, and they met Austen's. 

"We was just talkin' about you, " cried Mr. Meader, cordially; "come rightin. " He turned to Victoria. "I want to make you acquainted, " he said, "with Austen Vane. "

"And won't you tell him who I am, Mr. Meader?" said Victoria. 

"Well, " said Mr. Meader, apologetically, "that was stupid of me--wahn'tit? But I callated he'd know. She's the daughter of the railrudpresident--the 'one that was askin' about you. "

There was an instant's pause, and the colour stole into Victoria'scheeks. Then she glanced at Austen and bit her lip-and laughed. Herlaughter was contagious. 

"I suppose I shall have to confess that you have inspired my curiosity, Mr. Vane, " she said. 

Austen's face was sunburned, but it flushed a more vivid red under thetan. It is needless to pretend that a man of his appearance and qualitieshad reached the age of thirty-two without having listened to femininecomments of which he was the exclusive subject. In this remark ofVictoria's, or rather in the manner in which she made it, he recognized adifference. 

"It is a tribute, then, to the histrionic talents of Mr. Meader, of whichyou were speaking, " he replied laughingly. 

Victoria glanced at him with interest as he looked down at Mr. Meader. 

"And how is it to-day, Zeb?" he said. 

"It ain't so bad as it might be--with sech folks as her and you araound, "admitted Mr. Meader. "I'd almost agree to get run over again. She wasaskin' about you, and that's a fact, and I didn't slander you, neither. But I never callated to comprehend wimmen-folks. "

"Now, Mr. Meader, " said Victoria, reprovingly, but there were littlecreases about her eyes, "don't be a fraud. "

"It's true as gospel, " declared the invalid; "they always got the betterof me. I had one of 'em after me once, when I was young and prosperin'some. "

"And yet you have survived triumphant, " she exclaimed. 

"There wahn't none of 'em like you, " said Mr. Meader, "or it might havebe'n different. "

Again her eyes irresistibly sought Austen's, --as though to share with himthe humour of this remark, --and they laughed together. Her colour, sosensitive, rose again, but less perceptibly this time. Then she got up. 

"That's unfair, Mr. Meader!" she protested. 

"I'll leave it to Austen, " said Mr. Meader, "if it ain't probable. He'dought to know. "

In spite of a somewhat natural embarrassment, Austen could not butacknowledge to himself that Mr. Meader was right. With a womanly movementwhich he thought infinitely graceful, Victoria leaned over the bed. 

"Mr. Meader, " she said, "I'm beginning to think it's dangerous for me tocome here twice a week to see you, if you talk this way. And I'm not abit surprised that that woman didn't get the better of you. "

"You hain't a-goin'!" he exclaimed. "Why, I callated--"

"Good-by, " she said quickly; "I'm glad to see that you are doing sowell. " She raised her head and looked at Austen in a curious, inscrutableway. "Good-by, Mr. Vane, " she said; "I--I hope Mr. Blodgett hasrecovered. "

Before he could reply she had vanished, and he was staring at the emptydoorway. The reference to the unfortunate Mr. Blodgett, after taking hisbreath away, aroused in him an intense curiosity betraying, as it did, acertain knowledge of past events in his life in the hitherto unknowndaughter of Augustus interest could she have in him? Such a Flint. Whatquestion, from similar sources, has heightened the pulse of young menfrom time immemorial. 

CHAPTER IV

"TIMEO DANAOS"

The proverbial little birds that carry news and prophecies through theair were evidently responsible for an official-looking letter whichAusten received a few mornings later. On the letter-head was printed "TheUnited Northeastern Railroads, " and Mr. Austen Vane was informed that, bydirection of the president, the enclosed was sent to him in an entirelycomplimentary sense. "The enclosed" was a ticket of red cardboard, andits face informed him that he might travel free for the rest of the year. Thoughtfully turning it over, he read on the back the followinginscription:--"It is understood that this pass is accepted by itsrecipient as a retainer. "

Austen stared at it and whistled. Then he pushed back his chair, with thepass in his hand, and hesitated. He seized a pen and wrote a few lines:"Dear sir, I beg to return the annual pass over the NortheasternRailroads with which you have so kindly honoured me"--when he suddenlychanged his mind again, rose, and made his way through the corridors tohis father's office. The Honourable Hilary was absorbed in his dailyperusal of the Guardian. 

"Judge, " he asked, "is Mr. Flint up at his place this week?"

The Honourable Hilary coughed. 

"He arrived yesterday on the three. Er--why?"

"I wanted to go up and thank him for this, " his son answered, holding upthe red piece of cardboard. "Mr. Flint is a very thoughtful man. "

The Honourable Hilary tried to look unconcerned, and succeeded. 

"Sent you an annual, has he? Er--I don't know as I'd bother himpersonally, Austen. Just a pleasant note of acknowledgment. "

"I don't flatter myself that my achievements in the law can beresponsible for it, " said Austen. "The favour must be due to myrelationship with his eminent chief counsel. "

Hilary Vane's keen eyes rested on his son for an instant. Austen was morethan ever an enigma to him. 

"I guess relationship hasn't got much to do with business, " he replied. "You have be'n doing--er--better than I expected. "

"Thank you, Judge, " said Austen, quietly. "I don't mind saying that Iwould rather have your approbation than--this more substantialrecognition of merit. "

The Honourable Hilary's business was to deal with men, and by reason ofhis ability in so doing he had made a success in life. He could judgemotives more than passably well, and play upon weaknesses. But he leftAusten's presence that morning vaguely uneasy, with a sense of havingreceived from his own son an initial defeat at a game of which he was amaster. Under the excuse of looking up some precedents, he locked hisdoors to all comers for two hours, and paced his room. At one moment hereproached himself for not having been frank; for not having told Austenroundly that this squeamishness about a pass was unworthy of a strong manof affairs; yes, for not having revealed to him the mysteries of railroadpractice from the beginning. But frankness was not an ingredient of theHonourable Hilary's nature, and Austen was not the kind of man who wouldaccept a hint and a wink. Hilary Vane had formless forebodings, and foundhimself for once in his life powerless to act. 

The cost of living in Ripton was not so high that Austen Vane could notafford to keep a horse and buggy. The horse, which he tended himself, wasappropriately called Pepper; Austen had found him in the hills, and hewas easily the finest animal in Ripton: so good, in fact, that Mr. Humphrey Crewe (who believed he had an eye for horses) had peremptorilyhailed Austen from a motorcar and demanded the price, as was Mr. Crewe'swont when he saw a thing he desired. He had been somewhat surprised andnot inconsiderably offended by the brevity and force of the answer whichhe had received. 

On the afternoon of the summer's day in which Austen had the conversationwith his father just related, Pepper was trotting at a round clip throughthe soft and shady wood roads toward the town of Tunbridge; the word"town" being used in the New England sense, as a piece of territory aboutsix miles by six. The fact that automobiles full of laughing people fromLeith hummed by occasionally made no apparent difference to Pepper, whoknew only the master hand on the reins; the reality that the wood roadswere climbing great hills the horse did not seem to feel. Pepper knewevery lane and by-path within twenty miles of Ripton, and exhibited suchsurprise as a well-bred horse may when he was slowed down at length andturned into a hard, blue-stone driveway under a strange granite arch withthe word "Fairview" cut in Gothic letters above it, and two great lampsin wrought-iron brackets at the sides. It was Austen who made a note ofthe gratings over the drains, and of the acres of orderly forest in amysterious and seemingly enchanted realm. Intimacy with domains was newto him, and he began to experience an involuntary feeling of restraintwhich was new to him likewise, and made him chafe in spite of himself. The estate seemed to be the visible semblance of a power which troubledhim. 

Shortly after passing an avenue neatly labelled "Trade's Drive" the roadwound upwards through a ravine the sides of which were covered with adense shrubbery which had the air of having always been there, and yetsomehow looked expensive. At the top of the ravine was a sharp curve; andAusten, drawing breath, found himself swung, as it were, into space, looking off across miles of forest-covered lowlands to an ultramarinemountain in the hazy south, --Sawanec. As if in obedience to a telepathiccommand of his master, Pepper stopped. 

Drinking his fill of this scene, Austen forgot an errand which was notonly disagreeable, but required some fortitude for its accomplishment. The son had this in common with the Honourable Hilary--he hated heroics;and the fact that the thing smacked of heroics was Austen's onlydeterrent. And then there was a woman in this paradise! These gradualinsinuations into his revery at length made him turn. A straight avenueof pear-shaped, fifteen-year-old maples led to the house, a massivecolonial structure of wood that stretched across the shelf; and he hadtightened the reins and started courageously up the avenue when heperceived that it ended in a circle on which there was no sign of ahitching-post. And, worse than this, on the balconied, uncovered porchwhich he would have to traverse to reach the doorway he saw the sheen andglimmer of women's gowns grouped about wicker tables, and became awarethat his approach was the sole object of the scrutiny of an afternoon teaparty. 

As he reached the circle it was a slight relief to learn that Pepper wasthe attraction. No horse knew better than Pepper when he was beingadmired, and he arched his neck and lifted his feet and danced in thesheer exhilaration of it. A smooth-faced, red-cheeked gentleman in grayflannels leaned over the balustrade and made audible comments in apenetrating voice which betrayed the fact that he was Mr. Humphrey Crewe. 

"Saw him on the street in Ripton last year. Good hock action, hasn'the?--that's rare in trotters around here. Tried to buy him. Fellerwouldn't sell. His name's Vane--he's drivin' him now. "

A lady of a somewhat commanding presence was beside him. She was perhapsfive and forty, her iron-gray hair was dressed to perfection, her figureall that Parisian art could make it, and she was regarding Austen withextreme deliberation through the glasses which she had raised to ahigh-bridged nose. 

"Politics is certainly your career, Humphrey, " she remarked, "you havesuch a wonderful memory for faces. I don't see how he does it, do you, Alice?" she demanded of a tall girl beside her, who was evidently herdaughter, but lacked her personality. 

"I don't know, " said Alice. 

"It's because I've been here longer than anybody else, Mrs. Pomfret, "answered Mr. Crewe, not very graciously, "that's all. Hello. " This lastto Austen. 

"Hello, " said Austen. 

"Who do you want to see?" inquired Mr. Crewe, with the admirable tact forwhich he was noted. 

Austen looked at him for the first time. 

"Anybody who will hold my horse, " he answered quietly. 

By this time the conversation had drawn the attention of the others atthe tables, and one or two smiled at Austen's answer. Mrs. Flint, with a"Who is it?" arose to repel a social intrusion. She was an overdressedlady, inclining to embonpoint, but traces of the Rose of Sharon werestill visible. 

"Why don't you drive 'round to the stables?" suggested Mr. Crewe, unawareof a smile. 

Austen did not answer. He was, in fact, looking towards the doorway, andthe group on the porch were surprised to see a gleam of mirthfulunderstanding start in his eyes. An answering gleam was in Victoria's, who had at that moment, by a singular coincidence, come out of the house. She came directly down the steps and out on the gravel, and held her handto him in the buggy, and he flushed with pleasure as he grasped it. 

"How do you do, Mr. Vane?" she said. "I am so glad you have called. Humphrey, just push the stable button, will you?"

Mr. Crewe obeyed with no very good grace, while the tea-party went backto their seats. Mrs. Flint supposed he had come to sell Victoria thehorse; while Mrs. Pomfret, who had taken him in from crown to boots, remarked that he looked very much like a gentleman. 

"I came to see your father for a few moments--on business, " Austenexplained. 

She lifted her face to his with a second searching look. 

"I'll take you to him, " she said. 

By this time a nimble groom had appeared from out o a shrubbery path andseized Pepper's head. Austen alighted and followed Victoria into a great, cool hallway, and through two darkened rooms, bewilderingly furnished andladen with the scent of flowers, into a narrow passage beyond. She ledthe way simply, not speaking, and her silence seemed to betoken thecompleteness of an understanding between them, as of a long acquaintance. 

In a plain white-washed room, behind a plain oaken desk, sat Mr. Flint--aplain man. Austen thought he would have known him had he seen him on thestreet. The other things in the room were letter-files, a safe, along-distance telephone, and a thin private secretary with a bend in hisback. Mr. Flint looked up from his desk, and his face, previously bereftof illumination, lighted when he saw his daughter. Austen liked that inhim. 

"Well, Vic, what is it now?" he asked. 

"Mr. Austen Vane to see you, " said Victoria, and with a quick glance atAusten she left him standing on the threshold. Mr. Flint rose. His eyeswere deep-set in a square, hard head, and he appeared to be taking Austenin without directly looking at him; likewise, one felt that Mr. Flint'shandshake was not an absolute gift of his soul. 

"How do you do, Mr. Vane? I don't remember ever to have had the pleasureof seeing you, although your father and I have been intimately connectedfor many years. "

So the president's manner was hearty, but not the substance. It came, Austen thought, from a rarity of meeting with men on a disinterestedfooting; and he could not but wonder how Mr. Flint would treat the angelsin heaven if he ever got there, where there were no franchises to be had. Would he suspect them of designs upon his hard won harp and halo? Austendid not dislike Mr. Flint; the man's rise, his achievements, hisaffection for his daughter, he remembered. But he was also well awarethat Mr. Flint had thrown upon him the onus of the first move in a gamewhich the railroad president was used to playing every day. The dragonwas on his home ground and had the choice of weapons. 

"I do not wish to bother you long, " said Austen. 

"No bother, " answered Mr. Flint, "no bother to make the acquaintance ofthe son of my old friend, Hilary Vane. Sit down--sit down. And while Idon't believe any man should depend upon his father to launch him in theworld, yet it must be a great satisfaction to you, Mr. Vane, to have sucha father. Hilary Vane and I have been intimately associated for manyyears, and my admiration for him has increased with every year. It is tomen of his type that the prosperity, the greatness, of this nation islargely due, --conservative, upright, able, content to confine himself tothe difficult work for which he is so eminently fitted, withoutspectacular meddling in things in which he can have no concern. ThereforeI welcome the opportunity to know you, sir, for I understand that youhave settled down to follow in his footsteps and that you will make aname for yourself. I know the independence of young men--I was young oncemyself. But after all, Mr. Vane, experience is the great teacher, andperhaps there is some little advice which an old man can give you thatmay be of service. As your father's son, it is always at your disposal. Have a cigar. "

The thin secretary continued to flit about the room, between theletter-files and the desk. Austen had found it infinitely easier to shootMr. Blodgett than to engage in a duel with the president of the UnitedRailroad. 

"I smoke a pipe, " he said. 

"Too many young men smoke cigars--and those disgusting cigarettes, " saidMr. Flint, with conviction. "There are a lot of worthless young men inthese days, anyhow. They come to my house and loaf and drink and smoke, and talk a lot of nonsense about games and automobiles and clubs, andcumber the earth generally. There's a young man named Crewe over atLeith, for instance--you may have seen him. Not that he's dissipated--but he don't do anything but talk about railroads and the stock marketto make you sick, and don't know any more about 'em than my farmer. "

During this diatribe Austen saw his opening growing smaller and smaller. If he did not make a dash for it, it would soon be closed entirely. 

"I received a letter this morning, Mr. Flint, enclosing me an annualpass--"

"Did Upjohn send you one?" Mr. Flint cut in; "he ought to have done solong ago. It was probably an oversight that he did not, Mr. Vane. We tryto extend the courtesies of the road to persons who are looked up to intheir communities. The son of Hilary Vane is at all times welcome toone. "

Mr. Flint paused to light his cigar, and Austen summoned his resolution. Second by second it was becoming more and more difficult and seeminglymore ungracious to return a gift so graciously given, a gift of noinconsiderable intrinsic value. Moreover, Mr. Flint had ingeniouslycontrived almost to make the act, in Austen's eyes, that of a picayuneupstart. Who was he to fling back an annual pass in the face of thepresident of the Northeastern Railroads?

"I had first thought of writing you a letter, Mr. Flint, " he said, "butit seemed to me that, considering your relations with my father, theproper thing to do was to come to you and tell you why I cannot take thepass. "

The thin secretary paused in his filing, and remained motionless with hisbody bent over the drawer. 

"Why you cannot take it, Mr. Vane?" said the railroad president. "I'mafraid I don't understand. "

"I appreciate the--the kindness, " said Austen, "and I will try toexplain. " He drew the red cardboard from his pocket and turned it over. "On the back of this is printed, in small letters, 'It is understood thatthis pass is accepted by the recipient as a retainer. '"

"Well, " Mr. Flint interrupted, smiling somewhat blandly, "how much moneydo you think that pass would save an active young lawyer in a year? Isthree hundred dollars too much? Three hundred dollars is not aninsignificant sum to a young man on the threshold of his practice, isit?"

Austen looked at Mr. Flint. 

"Any sum is insignificant when it restricts a lawyer from the acceptanceof just causes, Mr. Flint. As I understand the matter, it is the customof your railroad to send these passes to the young lawyers of the Statethe moment they begin to give signs of ability. This past would preventme from serving clients who might have righteous claims against yourrailroads, and--permit me to speak frankly--in my opinion the practicetends to make it difficult for poor people who have been injured to getefficient lawyers. "

"Your own father is retained by the railroad, " said Mr. Flint. 

"As their counsel, " answered Austen. "I have a pride in my profession, Mr. Flint, as no doubt you have in yours. If I should ever acquiresufficient eminence to be sought as counsel for a railroad, I should makemy own terms with it. I should not allow its management alone to decideupon the value of my retainer, and my services in its behalf would beconfined strictly to professional ones. "

Mr. Flint drummed on the table. 

"What do you mean by that?" he demanded. 

"I mean that I would not engage, for a fee or a pass, to fight thepolitical battles of a railroad, or undertake any political manipulationin its behalf whatever. "

Mr. Flint leaned forward aggressively. 

"How long do you think a railroad would pay dividends if it did not adoptsome means of defending itself from the blackmail politician of the Statelegislatures, Mr. Vane? The railroads of which I have the honour to bepresident pay a heavy tag in this and other States. We would pay a muchheavier one if we didn't take precautions to protect ourselves. But I donot intend to quarrel with you, Mr. Vane, " he continued quickly, perceiving that Austen was about to answer him, "nor do I wish to leaveyou with the impression that the Northeastern Railroads meddle unduly inpolitics. "

Austen knew not how to answer. He had not gone there to discuss this lastand really great question with Mr. Flint, but he wondered whether thepresident actually thought him the fledgling he proclaimed. Austen laidhis pass on Mr. Flint's desk, and rose. 

"I assure you, Mr. Flint, that the spirit which prompted my visit was nota contentious one. I cannot accept the pass, simply because I do not wishto be retained. "

Mr. Flint eyed him. There was a mark of dignity, of silent power, on thistall scapegrace of a son of Hilary Vane that the railroad president hadmissed at first--probably because he had looked only for the scapegrace. Mr. Flint ardently desired to treat the matter in the trifling aspect inwhich he believed he saw it, to carry it off genially. But an instinctnot yet formulated told the president that he was face to face with anenemy whose potential powers were not to be despised, and he bristled inspite of himself. 

"There is no statute I know of by which a lawyer can be compelled toaccept a retainer against his will, Mr. Vane, " he replied, and overcamehimself with an effort. "But I hope that you will permit me, " he added inanother tone, "as an old friend of your father's and as a man of somelittle experience in the world, to remark that intolerance is acharacteristic of youth. I had it in the days of Mr. Isaac D. Worthington, whom you do not remember. I am not addicted to flattery, butI hope and believe you have a career before you. Talk to your father. Study the question on both sides, --from the point of view of men who arehonestly trying, in the face of tremendous difficulties, to protectinnocent stockholders as well as to conduct a corporation in theinterests of the people at large, and for their general prosperity. Becharitable, young man, and judge not hastily. "

Years before, when poor Sarah Austen had adorned the end of his table, Hilary Vane had raised his head after the pronouncement of grace tosurprise a look in his wife's eyes which strangely threw him into a whiteheat of anger. That look (and he at intervals had beheld it afterwards)was the true presentment of the soul of the woman whose body was his. Itwas not--as Hilary Vane thought it--a contempt for the practice ofthanking one's Maker for daily bread, but a contempt for cant of one whosees the humour in cant. A masculine version of that look Mr. Flint nowbeheld in the eyes of Austen Vane, and the enraging effect on thepresident of the United Railroads was much the same as it had been on hischief counsel. Who was this young man of three and thirty to agitate himso? He trembled, though not visibly, yet took Austen's hand mechanically. 

"Good day, Mr. Vane, " he said; "Mr. Freeman will help you to find yourhorse. "

The thin secretary bowed, and before he reached the door into the passageMr. Flint had opened another at the back of the room and stepped out on aclose-cropped lawn flooded with afternoon sunlight. In the passage Austenperceived a chair, and in the chair was seated patiently none other thanMr. Brush Bascom--political Duke of Putnam. Mr. Bascom's little agateeyes glittered in the dim light. 

"Hello, Austen, " he said, "since when have you took to comin' here?"

"It's a longer trip from Putnam than from Ripton, Brush, " said Austen, and passed on, leaving Mr. Bascom with a puzzled mind. Something verylike a smile passed over Mr. Freeman's face as he led the way silentlyout of a side entrance and around the house. The circle of the drive wasempty, the tea-party had gone--and Victoria. Austen assured himself thather disappearance relieved him: having virtually quarrelled with herfather, conversation would have been awkward; and yet he looked for her. 

They found the buggy and Pepper in the paved courtyard of the stables. AsAusten took the reins the secretary looked up at him, his mild blue eyesburning with an unsuspected fire. He held out his hand. 

"I want to congratulate you, " he said. 

"What for?" asked Austen, taking the hand in some embarrassment. 

"For speaking like a man, " said the secretary, and he turned on his heeland left him. 

This strange action, capping, as it did, a stranger experience, gaveAusten food for thought as he let Pepper take his own pace down thetrade's road. Presently he got back into the main drive where it clung toa steep, forest-covered side hill, when his attention was distracted bythe sight of a straight figure in white descending amidst the foliageahead. His instinctive action was to pull Pepper down to a walk, scarcelyanalyzing his motives; then he had time, before reaching the spot wheretheir paths would cross, to consider and characteristically to enjoy theunpropitious elements arrayed against a friendship with Victoria Flint. 

She halted on a flagstone of the descending path some six feet above theroadway, and stood expectant. The Rose of Sharon, five and twenty yearsbefore, would have been coy--would have made believe to have done it byaccident. But the Rose of Sharon, with all her beauty, would have had noattraction for Austen Vane. Victoria had much of her mother's good looks, the figure of a Diana, and her clothes were of a severity and correctnessin keeping with her style; they merely added to the sum total of theeffect upon Austen. Of course he stopped the buggy immediately beneathher, and her first question left him without any breath. No woman he hadever known seized the essentials as she did. 

"What have you been doing to my father?" she asked. 

"Why?" exclaimed Austen. 

"Because he's in such a bad temper, " said Victoria. "You must have puthim in it. It can't be possible that you came all the way up here toquarrel with him. Nobody ever dares to quarrel with him. "

"I didn't come up to quarrel with him, " said Austen. 

"What's the trouble?" asked Victoria. 

The humour of this question was too much for him, and he laughed. Victoria's eyes laughed a little, but there was a pucker in her forehead. 

"Won't you tell me?" she demanded, "or must I get it out of him?"

"I am afraid, " said Austen, slowly, "that you must get it out of him--ifhe hasn't forgotten it. "

"Forgotten it, dear old soul!" cried Victoria. "I met him just now andtried to make him look at the new Guernseys, and he must have beendisturbed quite a good deal when he's cross as a bear to me. He reallyoughtn't to be upset like that, Mr. Vane, when he comes up here to rest. I am afraid that you are rather a terrible person, although you look sonice. Won't you tell me what you did to him?"

Austen was non-plussed. 

"Nothing intentional, " he answered earnestly, "but it wouldn't be fair toyour father if I gave you my version of a business conversation thatpassed between us, would it?"

"Perhaps not, " said Victoria. She sat down on the flagstone with herelbow on her knee and her chin in her hand, and looked at himthoughtfully. He knew well enough that a wise general would haveretreated--horse, foot, and baggage; but Pepper did not stir. 

"Do you know, " said Victoria, "I have an idea you came up here about ZebMeader. "

"Zeb Meader!"

"Yes. I told my father about him, --how you rescued him, and how you wentto see him in the hospital, and what a good man he is, and how poor. "

"Oh, did you!" exclaimed Austen. 

"Yes. And I told him the accident wasn't Zeb's fault, that the traindidn't whistle or ring, and that the crossing was a blind one. "

"And what did he say?" asked Austen, curiously. 

"He said that on a railroad as big as his something of the kind musthappen occasionally. And he told me if Zeb didn't make a fuss and actfoolishly, he would have no cause to regret it. "

"And did you tell Zeb?" asked Austen. 

"Yes, " Victoria admitted, "but I'm sorry I did, now. "

"What did Zeb say?"

Victoria laughed in spite of herself, and gave a more or less exactthough kindly imitation of Mr. Meader's manner. 

"He said that wimmen-folks had better stick to the needle and the duster, and not go pokin' about law business that didn't concern 'em. But theworst of it was, " added Victoria, with some distress, "he won't acceptany more fruit. Isn't he silly? He won't get it into his head that I givehim the fruit, and not my father. I suspect that he actually believes myfather sent me down there to tell him that. "

Austen was silent, for the true significance of this apparently obscuredamage case to the Northeastern Railroads was beginning to dawn on him. The public was not in the best of humours towards railroads: there wastrouble about grade crossings, and Mr. Meader's mishap and the manner ofhis rescue by the son of the corporation counsel had given the accident adeplorable publicity. Moreover, if it had dawned on Augustus Flint thatthe son of Hilary Vane might prosecute the suit, it was worth whiletaking a little pains with Mr. Meader and Mr. Austen Vane. Certain smallfires have been known to light world-wide conflagrations. 

"What are you thinking about?" asked Victoria. "It isn't at all polite toforget the person you are talking to. "

"I haven't forgotten you, " said Austen, with a smile. How could he--sitting under her in this manner?

"Besides, " said Victoria, mollified, "you haven't an answered myquestion. "

"Which question?"

She scrutinized him thoughtfully, and with feminine art made the kind ofan attack that rarely fails. 

"Why are you such an enigma, Mr. Vane?" she demanded. "Is it becauseyou're a lawyer, or because you've been out West and seen so much of lifeand shot so many people?"

Austen laughed, yet he had tingling symptoms because she showed enoughinterest in him to pronounce him a riddle. But he instantly becameserious as the purport of the last charge came home to him. 

"I suppose I am looked upon as a sort of Jesse James, " he said. "As ithappens, I have never shot but one man, and I didn't care very much forthat. "

Victoria got up and came down a step and gave him her hand. He took it, nor was he the first to relinquish the hold; and a colour rose delicatelyin her face as she drew her fingers away. 

"I didn't mean to offend you, " she said. 

"You didn't offend me, " he replied quickly. "I merely wished you to knowthat I wasn't a brigand. "

Victoria smiled. 

"I really didn't think so--you are much too solemn. I have to go now, and--you haven't told me anything. "

She crossed the road and began to descend the path on the other side. Twice he glanced back, after he had started, and once surprised herpoised lightly among the leaves, looking over her shoulder. 

CHAPTER V

THE PARTING OF THE WAYS

The next time Austen visited the hospital Mr. Meader had a surprise instore for him. After passing the time of day, as was his custom, thepatient freely discussed the motives which had led him to refuse any moreof Victoria's fruit. 

"I hain't got nothing against her, " he declared; "I tried to make thatplain. She's as nice and common a young lady as I ever see, and I don'tbelieve she had a thing to do with it. But I suspicioned they was up tosomethin' when she brought them baskets. And when she give me the messagefrom old Flint, I was sure of it. "

"Miss Flint was entirely innocent, I'm sure, " said Austen, emphatically. 

"If I could see old Flint, I'd tell him what I thought of him usin'wimmen-folks to save 'em money, " said Mr. Meader. "I knowed she wahn'tthat kind. And then that other thing come right on top of it. "

"What other thing?"

"Say, " demanded Mr. Meader, "don't you know?"

"I know nothing, " said Austen. 

"Didn't know Hilary Vane's be'n here?"

"My father!" Austen ejaculated. 

"Gittin' after me pretty warm, so they be. Want to know what my price isnow. But say, I didn't suppose your fayther'd come here without lettin'you know. "

Austen was silent. The truth was that for a few moments he could notcommand himself sufficiently to speak. 

"He is the chief counsel for the road, " he said at length; "I am notconnected with it. "

"I guess you're on the right track. He's a pretty smooth talker, yourfayther. Just dropped in to see how I be, since his son was interested. Talked a sight of law gibberish I didn't understand. Told me I didn'thave much of a case; said the policy of the railrud was to be liberal, and wanted to know what I thought I ought to have. "

"Well?" said Austen, shortly. 

"Well, " said Mr. Mender, "he didn't git a mite of satisfaction out of me. I've seen enough of his kind of folks to know how to deal with 'em, and Itold him so. I asked him what they meant by sending that slick Mr. Tooting 'raound to offer me five hundred dollars. I said I was willin' totrust my case on that crossin' to a jury. "

Austen smiled, in spite of his mingled emotions. 

"What else did Mr. Vane say?" he asked. 

Not a great sight more. Said a good many folks were foolish enough tospend money and go to law when they'd done better to trust to theliberality of the railrud. Liberality! Adams' widow done well to trusttheir liberality, didn't she? He wanted to know one more thing, but Ididn't give him any satisfaction. "

"What was that?"

"I couldn't tell you how he got 'raound to it. Guess he never did, quite. He wanted to know what lawyer was to have my case. Wahn't none of hisaffair, and I callated if you'd wanted him to know just yet, you'd havetoad him. "

Austen laid his hand on the farmer's, as he rose to go. 

"Zeb, " he said, "I never expect to have a more exemplary client. "

Mr. Mender shot a glance at him. 

"Mebbe I spoke a mite too free about your fayther, Austen, " he said; "youand him seem kind of different. "

"The Judge and I understand each other, " answered Austen. 

He had got as far as the door, when he stopped, swung on his heel, andcame back to the bedside. 

"It's my duty to tell you, Zeb, that in order to hush this thing up theymay offer you more than you can get from a jury. In that case I shouldhave to advise you to accept. "

He was aware that, while he made this statement, Zeb Meader's eyes wereriveted on him, and he knew that the farmer was weighing him in thebalance. 

"Sell out?" exclaimed Mr. Meader. "You advise me to sell out?"

Austen did not get angry. He understood this man and the people fromwhich he sprang. 

"The question is for you to decide--whether you can get more money by asettlement. "

"Money!" cried Zeb Meader, "I have found it pretty hard to git, butthere's some things I won't do for it. There's a reason why they wantthis case hushed up, the way they've be'n actin'. I ain't lived in Mercerand Putnam County all my life for nothin'. Hain't I seen 'em run theirdirty politics there under Brush Bascom for the last twenty-five years?There's no man has an office or a pass in that county but what Bascomgives it to him, and Bascom's the railrud tool. " Suddenly Zeb raisedhimself in bed. "Hev' they be'n tamperin' with you?" he demanded. 

"Yes, " answered Austen, dispassionately. He had hardly heard what Zeb hadsaid; his mind had been going onward. "Yes. They sent me an annual pass, and I took it back. "

Zeb Meader did not speak for a few moments. 

"I guess I was a little hasty, Austen, " he said at length. 

"I might have known you wouldn't sell out. If you're' willin' to take therisk, you tell 'em ten thousand dollars wouldn't tempt me. "

"All right, Zeb, " said Austen. 

He left the hospital and struck out across the country towards the slopesof Sawanec, climbed them, and stood bareheaded in the evening light, gazing over the still, wide valley northward to the wooded ridges whereLeith and Fairview lay hidden. He had come to the parting of the ways oflife, and while he did not hesitate to choose his path, a Vaneinheritance, though not dominant, could not fail at such a juncture topoint out the pleasantness of conformity. Austen's affection for HilaryVane was real; the loneliness of the elder man appealed to the son, whoknew that his father loved him in his own way. He dreaded the wrenchthere. 

And nature, persuasive in that quarter, was not to be stilled in a fieldmore completely her own. The memory and suppliance of a minute willscarce suffice one of Austen's temperament for a lifetime; and his eyes, flying with the eagle high across the valley, searched the velvet foldsof the ridges, as they lay in infinite shades of green in the levellight, for the place where the enchanted realm might be. Just what thestate of his feelings were at this time towards Victoria Flint is toovague--accurately to be painted, but he was certainly not ready to giveway to the attraction he felt for her. His sense of humour intervened ifhe allowed himself to dream; there was a certain folly in pursuing theacquaintance, all the greater now that he was choosing the path ofopposition to the dragon. A young woman, surrounded as she was, could beexpected to know little of the subtleties of business and politicalmorality: let him take Zeb Meader's case, and her loyalty would naturallybe with her father, --if she thought of Austen Vane at all. 

And yet the very contradiction of her name, Victoria joined with Flint, seemed to proclaim that she did not belong to her father or to the Roseof Sharon. Austen permitted himself to dwell, as he descended themountain in the gathering darkness, upon the fancy of the springing of ageneration of ideals from a generation of commerce which boded well forthe Republic. And Austen Vane, in common with that younger and travelledgeneration, thought largely in terms of the Republic. Pepper County andPutnam County were all one to him--pieces of his native land. And assuch, redeemable. 

It was long past the supper hour when he reached the house in HanoverStreet; but Euphrasia, who many a time in days gone by had fared forthinto the woods to find Sarah Austen, had his supper hot for him. Afterwards he lighted his pipe and went out into the darkness, andpresently perceived a black figure seated meditatively on the granitedoorstep. 

"Is that you, Judge?" said Austen. 

The Honourable Hilary grunted in response. 

"Be'n on another wild expedition, I suppose. "

"I went up Sawanec to stretch my legs a little, " Austen answered, sittingdown beside his father. 

"Funny, " remarked the Honourable Hilary, "I never had this mania forstretchin' my legs after I was grown. "

"Well, " said Austen, "I like to go into the woods and climb the hills andget aired out once in a while. "

"I heard of your gettin' aired out yesterday, up Tunbridge way, " said theHonourable Hilary. 

"I supposed you would hear of it, " answered Austen. 

"I was up there to-day. Gave Mr. Flint your pass did you?"

"Yes. "

"Didn't see fit to mention it to me first--did you? Said you were goingup to thank him for it. "

Austen considered this. 

"You have put me in the wrong, Judge, " he replied after a little. "I madethat remark ironically. I I am afraid we cannot agree on the motive whichprompted me. "

"Your conscience a little finer than your father's--is it?"

"No, " said Austen, "I don't honestly think it is. I've thought a gooddeal in the last few years about the difference in our ways of looking atthings. I believe that two men who try to be honest may conscientiouslydiffer. But I also believe that certain customs have gradually grown upin railroad practice which are more or less to be deplored from the pointof view of the honour of the profession. I think they are not perhaps--realized even by the eminent men in the law. "

"Humph!" said the Honourable Hilary. But he did not press his son for theenumeration of these customs. After all the years he had disapproved ofAusten's deeds it seemed strange indeed to be called to account by theprodigal for his own. Could it be that this boy whom he had so oftenchastised took a clearer view of practical morality than himself? It waspreposterous. But why the uneasiness of the past few years? Why had hemore than once during that period, for the first time in his life, questioned a hitherto absolute satisfaction in his position of chiefcounsel for the Northeastern Railroads? Why had he hesitated to initiatehis son into many of the so-called duties of a railroad lawyer? Austenhad never verbally arraigned those duties until to-night. 

Contradictory as it may seem, irritating as it was to the HonourableHilary Vane, he experienced again the certain faint tingling of pride aswhen Austen had given him the dispassionate account of the shooting ofMr. Blodgett; and this tingling only served to stiffen Hilary Vane morethan ever. A lifelong habit of admitting nothing and a lifelong pridemade the acknowledgment of possible professional lapses for the benefitof his employer not to be thought of. He therefore assumed the sameattitude as had Mr. Flint, and forced the burden of explanation uponAusten, relying surely on the disinclination of his son to be specific. And Austen, considering his relationship, could not be expected to fathomthese mental processes. 

"See here, Judge, " he said, greatly embarrassed by the real affection hefelt, "I don't want to seem like a prig and appear to be sitting injudgment upon a man of your experience and position especially since Ihave the honour to be your son, and have made a good deal of trouble by anot irreproachable existence. Since we have begun on the subject, however, I think I ought to tell you that I have taken the case of ZebMeader against the Northeastern Railroads. "

"Wahn't much need of telling me, was there?" remarked the HonourableHilary, dryly. "I'd have found it out as soon as anybody else. "

"There was this need of telling you, " answered Austen, steadily, "although I am not in partnership with you, I bear your name. Andin-as-much as I am to have a suit against your client, it has occurred tome that you would like me to move--elsewhere. "

The Honourable Hilary was silent for a long time. 

"Want to move--do YOU? Is that it?"

"Only because my presence may embarrass you. "

"That wahn't in the contract, " said the Honourable Hilary; "you've got aright to take any fool cases you've a mind to. Folks know pretty well I'mnot mixed up in 'em. "

Austen did not smile; he could well understand his father's animus inthis matter. As he looked up at the gable of his old home against thestars, he did not find the next sentence any easier. 

"And then, " he continued, "in taking, a course so obviously against yourwishes and judgment it occurred to me--well, that I was eating at yourtable and sleeping in your house. "

To his son's astonishment, Hilary Vane turned on him almost truculently. 

"I thought the time'd come when you'd want to go off again, --gypsying, "he cried. 

"I'd stay right here in Ripton, Judge. I believe my work is in thisState. "

The Honour could see through a millstone with a hole in it. The effect ofAusten's assertion on him was a declaration that the mission of the onewas to tear down what the other had so laboriously built up. And yet agrowing dread of Hilary Vane's had been the loneliness of declining yearsin that house should Austen leave it again, never to return. 

"I knew you had this Meader business in mind, " he said. "I knew you hadfanciful notions about--some things. Never told you I didn't want youhere, did I?"

"No, " said Austen, "but--"

Would have told you if I hadn't wanted you--wouldn't I?"

"I hope so, Judge, " said Austen, who understood something of the feelingwhich underlay this brusqueness. That knowledge made matters all theharder for him. 

"It was your mother's house--you're entitled to that, anyway, " said theHonourable Hilary, "but what I want to know is, why you didn't advisethat eternal fool of a Meader to accept what we offered him. You'll neverget a county jury to give as much. "

"I did advise him to accept it, " answered Austen. 

"What's the matter with him?" the Honourable Hilary demanded. 

"Well, judge, if you really want my opinion, an honest farmer like Meaderis suspicious of any corporation which has such zealous and loyalretainers as Ham Tooting and Brush Bascom. " And Austen thought with areturn of the pang which had haunted him at intervals throughout theafternoon, that he might almost have added to these names that of HilaryVane. Certainly Zeb Meader had not spared his father. 

"Life, " observed the Honourable Hilary, unconsciously using a phrase fromthe 'Book of Arguments, ' "is a survival of the fittest. "

"How do you define 'the fittest?'" asked Austen. "Are they the men whohave the not unusual and certainly not exalted gift of getting money fromtheir fellow creatures by the use of any and all weapons that may be athand? who believe the acquisition of wealth to be exempt from thepractice of morality? Is Mr. Flint your example of the fittest type toexist and survive, or Gladstone or Wilberforce or Emerson or Lincoln?"

"Emerson!" cried the Honourable Hilary, the name standing out in redletters before his eyes. He had never read a line of the philosopher'swritings, not even the charge to "hitch your wagon to a star" (not in the"Book of Arguments"). Sarah Austen had read Emerson in the woods, and herson's question sounded so like the unintelligible but unanswerableflashes with which the wife had on rare occasions opposed the husband'sauthority that Hilary Vane found his temper getting the best of him--Thename of Emerson was immutably fixed in his mind as the synonym forincomprehensible, foolish habits and beliefs. "Don't talk Emerson to me, "he exclaimed. "And as for Brush Bascom, I've known him for thirty years, and he's done as much for the Republican party as any man in this State. "

This vindication of Mr. Bascom naturally brought to a close aconversation which had already continued too long. The Honourable Hilaryretired to rest; but--if Austen had known it--not to sleep until thesmall hours of the morning. 

It was not until the ensuing spring that the case of Mr. Zebulun Meaderagainst the United Northeastern Railroads came up for trial in Bradford, the county-seat of Putnam County, and we do not wish to appear to give ittoo great a weight in the annals of the State. For one thing, the weeklynewspapers did not mention it; and Mr. Paul Pardriff, when urged to givean account of the proceedings in the Ripton Record, said it was a matterof no importance, and spent the afternoon writing an editorial about thedomestic habits of the Aztecs. Mr. Pardriff, however, had thought thematter of sufficient interest personally to attend the trial, and for thejourney he made use of a piece of green cardboard which he habituallycarried in his pocket. The editor of the Bradford Champion did not haveto use his yellow cardboard, yet his columns may be searched in vain forthe event. 

Not that it was such a great event, one of hundreds of railroad accidentsthat come to court. The son of Hilary Vane was the plaintiff's counsel;and Mr. Meader, although he had not been able to work since his releasefrom the hospital, had been able to talk, and the interest taken in thecase by the average neglected citizen in Putnam proved that the weeklynewspaper is not the only disseminator of news. 

The railroad's side of the case was presented by that genial and ablepractitioner of Putnam County, Mr. Nathaniel Billings, who travelled fromhis home in Williamstown by the exhibition of a red ticket. Austen Vanehad to pay his own way from Ripton, but as he handed back the mileagebook, the conductor leaned over and whispered something in his ear thatmade him smile, and Austen thought he would rather have that little dropof encouragement than a pass. And as he left the car at Bradford, twogrizzled and hard-handed individuals arose and wished him good luck. 

He needed encouragement, --what young lawyer does not on his firstimportant case? And he did not like to think of the future if he lostthis. But in this matter he possessed a certain self-confidence whicharose from a just and righteous anger against the forces opposing him anda knowledge of their tactics. To his mind his client was not Zeb Meaderalone, but the host of victims who had been maimed and bought off becauseit was cheaper than to give the public a proper protection. 

The court room was crowded. Mr. Zeb Meader, pale but determined, wassurrounded by a knot of Mercer neighbours, many of whom were witnesses. The agate eyes of Mr. Brush Bascom flashed from the audience, and Mr. NatBillings bustled forward to shake Austen's hand. Nat was one of those whocalled not infrequently upon the Honourable Hilary in Ripton, and had saton Austen's little table. 

"Glad to see you, Austen, " he cried, so that the people might hear; andadded, in a confidentially lower tone, "We lawyers understand that theselittle things make no difference, eh?"

"I'm willing to agree to that if you are, Nat, " Austen answered. Helooked at the lawyer's fleshy face, blue-black where it was shaven, andat Mr. Billings' shifty eyes and mouth, which its muscles could not quitekeep in place. Mr. Billings also had nicked teeth. But he did his best tohide these obvious disadvantages by a Falstaffian bonhomie, --for Mr. Billings was growing stout. 

"I tried it once or twice, my friend, when I was younger. It's noble, butit don't pay, " said Mr. Billings, still confidential. "Brush issour--look at him. But I understand how you feel. I'm the kind of fellerthat speaks out, and what I can't understand is, why the old man let youget into it. "

"He knew you were going to be on the other side, Nat, and wanted to teachme a lesson. I suppose it is folly to contest a case where the RailroadCommission has completely exonerated your client, " Austen addedthoughtfully. 

Mr. Billings' answer was to wink, very slowly, with one eye; and shortlyafter these pleasantries were over, the case was called. A fragrant windblew in at the open windows, and Nature outside was beginning to arrayherself in myriad hues of green. Austen studied the jury, and wonderedhow many points of his argument he could remember, but when he had got tohis feet the words came to him. If we should seek an emblem for KingDavid's smooth, round stone which he flung at Goliath, we should call itthe truth--for the truth never fails to reach the mark. Austen's openingwas not long, his words simple and not dramatic, but he seemed to chargethem with something of the same magnetic force that compelled people toread and believe "Uncle Ton's Cabin" and the "Song of the Shirt. "Spectators and jury listened intently. 

Some twenty witnesses appeared for the plaintiff, all of whom declaredthat they had heard neither bell nor whistle. Most of these witnesses hadbeen in the grove, two or three in the train; two, residents of thevicinity, testified that they had complained to the Railroad Commissionabout that crossing, and had received evasive answers to the effect thatit was the duty of citizens to look out for themselves. Oncross-examination they declared they had no objection to grade crossingswhich were properly safeguarded; this crossing was a death-trap. (Stricken out. ) Mr. Billings made the mistake of trying to prove that oneof these farmers--a clear-eyed, full-chested man with a deep voice--hadan animus against the railroad dating from a controversy concerning theshipping of milk. 

"I have an animus, your Honour, " said the witness, quietly. "When therailrud is represented by the kind of politicians we have in Putnam, it'snatural I should hain't it?"

This answer, although stricken out, was gleefully received. 

In marked contrast to the earnestness of young Mr. Vane, who then rested, Mr. Billings treated the affair from the standpoint of a man of largepractice who usually has more weighty matters to attend to. This was socomparatively trivial as not to be dignified by a serious mien. He quotedfreely from the "Book of Arguments, " reminding the jury of the debt ofgratitude the State owed to the Northeastern Railroads for doing so muchfor its people; and if they were to eliminate all grade crossings, therewould be no dividends for the stockholders. Besides, the law was that theState should pay half when a crossing was eliminated, and the State couldnot afford it. Austen had suggested, in his opening, that it was cheaperfor the railroad as well as the State to kill citizens. He askedpermission to inquire of the learned counsel for the defence by whatauthority he declared that the State could not afford to enter into apolicy by which grade crossings would gradually be eliminated. 

"Why, " said Mr. Billings, "the fact that all bills introduced to this endnever get out of committee. "

"May I ask, " said Austen, innocently, "who has been chairman of thatparticular committee in the lower House for the last five sessions?"

Mr. Billings was saved the embarrassment of answering this question by aloud voice in the rear calling out:--"Brush Bascom!"

A roar of laughter shook the court room, and all eyes were turned onBrush, who continued to sit unconcernedly with his legs crossed and hisarm over the back of the seat. The offender was put out, order wasrestored, and Mr. Billings declared, with an injured air, that he failedto see why the counsel for the plaintiff saw fit to impugn Mr. Bascom. 

"I merely asked a question, " said Austere; "far be it from me to impugnany man who has held offices in the gift of the people for the lasttwenty years. "

Another gale of laughter followed this, during which Mr. Billingswriggled his mouth and gave a strong impression that such tactics andsuch levity were to be deplored. 

For the defence, the engineer and fireman both swore that the bell hadbeen rung before the crossing was reached. Austen merely inquired whetherthis was not when they had left the station at North Mercer, two milesaway. No, it was nearer. Pressed to name the exact spot, they could onlyconjecture, but near enough to be heard on the crossing. Otherwitnesses--among them several picnickers in the grove--swore that theyhad heard the bell. One of these Austen asked if he was not the memberfrom Mercer in the last Legislature, and Mr. Billings, no longer genial, sprang to his feet with an objection. 

"I merely wish to show, your Honour, " said Austen, "that this witnessaccepted a pass from the Northeastern Railroads when he went to theLegislature, and that he has had several trip passes for himself and hisfamily since. "

The objection was not sustained, and Mr. Billings noted an exception. 

Another witness, upon whose appearance the audience tittered audibly, wasDave Skinner, boss of Mercer. He had lived, he said, in the town ofMercer all his life, and maintained that he was within a hundred yards ofthe track when the accident occurred, and heard the bell ring. 

"Is it not a fact, " said Austen to this witness, "that Mr. Brush Bascomhas a mortgage on your farm?"

"I can show, your Honour, " Austen continued, when Mr. Billings hadfinished his protest, "that this man was on his way to Riverside to payhis quarterly instalment. "

Mr. Bascom was not present at the afternoon session. Mr. Billings'summing up was somewhat impassioned, and contained more quotations fromthe "Book of Arguments. " He regretted, he said, the obvious appeals toprejudice against a railroad corporation that was honestly trying to doits duty-yes, and more than its duty. 

Misjudged, misused, even though friendless, it would continue to servethe people. So noble, indeed, was the picture which Mr. Billings'eloquence raised up that his voice shook with emotion as he finished. 

In the opinion of many of the spectators Austen Vane had yet to learn theart of oratory. He might with propriety have portrayed the suffering andloss of the poor farmer who was his client; he merely quoted from thedoctor's testimony to the effect that Mr. Meader would never again beable to do physical labour of the sort by which he had supported himself, and ended up by calling the attention of the jury to the photographs andplans of the crossing he had obtained two days after the accident, requesting them to note the facts that the public highway, approachingthrough a dense forest and underbrush at an angle of thirty-threedegrees, climbed the railroad embankment at that point, and a train couldnot be seen until the horse was actually on the track. 

The jury was out five minutes after the judge's charge, and gave Mr. Zebulun Meader a verdict of six thousand dollars and costs, --a popularverdict, from the evident approval with which it was received in thecourt room. Quiet being restored, Mr. Billings requested, somewhatvehemently, that the case be transferred on the exceptions to the SupremeCourt, that the stenographer write out the evidence, and that he mighthave three weeks in which to prepare a draft. This was granted. 

Zeb Meader, true to his nature, was self-contained throughout thecongratulations he received, but his joy was nevertheless intense. 

"You shook 'em up good, Austen, " he said, making his way to where hiscounsel stood. "I suspicioned you'd do it. But how about this hereappeal?"

"Billings is merely trying to save the face of his railroad, " Austenanswered, smiling. "He hasn't the least notion of allowing this case tocome up again--take my word for it. "

"I guess your word's good, " said Zeb. "And I want to tell you one thing, as an old man. I've been talkin' to Putnam County folks some, and youhain't lost nothin' by this. "

"How am I to get along without the friendship of Brush Bascom?" askedAusten, soberly. 

Mr. Meader, who had become used to this mild sort of humour, relaxedsufficiently to laugh. 

"Brush did seem a mite disgruntled, " he remarked. 

Somewhat to Austen's embarrassment, Mr. Mender's friends were pushingforward. One grizzled veteran took him by the hand and lookedthoughtfully into his face. 

"I've lived a good many years, " he said, "but I never heerd 'em talked upto like that. You're my candidate for governor. "

CHAPTER VI

ENTER THE LION

It is a fact, as Shakespeare has so tersely hinted, that fame sometimescomes in the line of duty. To be sure, if Austen Vane had been TimothySmith, the Mender case might not have made quite so many ripples in thepond with which this story is concerned. Austen did what he thought wasright. In the opinion of many of his father's friends whom he met fromtime to time he had made a good-sized stride towards ruin, and they didnot hesitate to tell him so--Mr. Chipman, president of the RiptonNational Bank; Mr. Greene, secretary and treasurer of the Hawkeye PaperCompany, who suggested with all kindness that, however noble it may be, it doesn't pay to tilt at windmills. 

"Not unless you wreck the windmill, " answered Austen. A new and veryrevolutionary point of view to Mr. Greene, who repeated it to ProfessorBrewer, urging that gentleman to take Austen in hand. But the professorburst out laughing, and put the saying into circulation. 

Mr. Silas Tredway, whose list of directorships is too long to print, alsoundertook to remonstrate with the son of his old friend, Hilary Vane. Theyoung lawyer heard him respectfully. The cashiers of some of thesegentlemen, who were younger men, ventured to say--when out of hearing--that they admired the championship of Mr. Mender, but it would neverdo. To these, likewise, Austen listened good-naturedly enough, and didnot attempt to contradict them. Changing the angle of the sun-dial doesnot affect the time of day. 

It was not surprising that young Tom Gaylord, when he came back from NewYork and heard of Austen's victory, should have rushed to his office andcongratulated him in a rough but hearty fashion. Even though Austen hadwon a suit against the Gaylord Lumber Company, young Tom would havecongratulated him. Old Tom was a different matter. Old Tom, hobblingalong under the maples, squinted at Austen and held up his stick. 

"Damn you, you're a lawyer, ain't you?" cried the old man. 

Austen, well used to this kind of greeting from Mr. Gaylord, replied thathe didn't think himself much of one. 

"Damn it, I say you are. Some day I may have use for you, " said old Tom, and walked on. 

"No, " said young Tom, afterwards, in explanation of this extraordinaryattitude of his father, "it isn't principle. He's had a row with theNortheastern about lumber rates, and swears he'll live till he gets evenwith 'em. "

If Professor Brewer (Ripton's most clear-sighted citizen) had made thestatement that Hilary Vane--away down in the bottom of his heart--wassecretly proud of his son, the professor would probably have lost hisplace on the school board, the water board, and the library committee. The way the worldly-wise professor discovered the secret was this: he hadgone to Bradford to hear the case, for he had been a dear friend of SarahAusten. Two days later Hilary Vane saw the professor on his little porch, and lingered. Mr. Brewer suspected why, led carefully up to the subject, and not being discouraged--except by numerous grunts--gave the father anaccount of the proceedings by no means unfavourable to the son. Somepeople like paregoric; the Honourable Hilary took his without unduesquirming, with no visible effects to Austen. 

Life in the office continued, with one or two exceptions, the even tenorof its way. Apparently, so far as the Honourable Hilary was concerned, his son had never been to Bradford. But the Honourable Brush Bascom, whenhe came on mysterious business to call on the chief counsel, no longersat on Austen's table; this was true of other feudal lords and retainers:of Mr. Nat Billings, who, by the way, did not file his draft after all. Not that Mr. Billings wasn't polite, but he indulged no longer in slowwinks at the expense of the honourable Railroad Commission. 

Perhaps the most curious result of the Meader case to be remarked inpassing, was upon Mr. Hamilton Tooting. Austen, except when he fled tothe hills, was usually the last to leave the office, Mr. Tooting oftenthe first. But one evening Mr. Tooting waited until the force had gone, and entered Austen's room with his hand outstretched. 

"Put her there, Aust, " he said. 

Austen put her there. 

"I've been exercisin' my thinker some the last few months, " observed Mr. Tooting, seating himself on the desk. 

"Aren't you afraid of nervous prostration, Ham?"

"Say, " exclaimed Mr. Tooting, with a vexed laugh, "why are you alwaysjollying me? You ain't any older than I am. "

"I'm not as old, Ham. I don't begin to have your knowledge of the world. "

"Come off, " said Mr. Tooting, who didn't know exactly how to take thiscompliment. "I came in here to have a serious talk. I've been thinking itover, and I don't know but what you did right. "

"Well, Ham, if you don't know, I don't know how I am to convince you. "

"Hold on. Don't go twistin' around that way--you make me dizzy. " Helowered his voice confidentially, although there was no one within fivewalls of them. "I know the difference between a gold brick and agovernment bond, anyhow. I believe bucking the railroad's going to pay ina year or so. I got on to it as soon as you did, I guess, but when afeller's worn the collar as long as I have and has to live, it ain't easyto cut loose--you understand. "

"I understand, " answered Austen, gravely. 

"I thought I'd let you know I didn't take any too much trouble withMeader last summer to get the old bird to accept a compromise. "

"That was good of you, Ham. "

"I knew what you was up to, " said Mr. Tooting, giving Austen a friendlypoke with his cigar. 

"You showed your usual acumen, Mr. Tooting, " said Austen, as he rose toput on his coat. Mr. Tooting regarded him uneasily. 

"You're a deep one, Aust, " he declared; "some day you and, me must gettogether. "

Mr. Billings' desire for ultimate justice not being any stronger thanAusten suspected, in due time Mr. Meader got his money. His counsel wouldhave none of it, --a decision not at all practical, and on the wholedisappointing. There was, to be sure, an influx into Austen's office ofpeople who had been run over in the past, and it was Austen's unhappyduty to point out to these that they had signed (at the request ofvarious Mr. Tootings) little slips of paper which are technically knownas releases. But the first hint of a really material advantage to bederived from his case against the railroad came from a wholly unexpectedsource, in the shape of a letter in the mail one August morning. 

 "DEAR SIR: Having remarked with some interest the verdict for a client of yours against the United Northeastern Railroads, I wish you would call and see me at your earliest convenience. 

 "Yours truly, "HUMPHREY CREWE. "

Although his curiosity was aroused, Austen was of two minds whether toanswer this summons, the truth being that Mr. Crewe had not made, on theoccasions on which they had had intercourse, the most favourable ofimpressions. However, it is not for the struggling lawyer to scorn anyhonourable brief, especially from a gentleman of stocks and bonds andvaried interests like Mr. Crewe, with whom contentions of magnitude areinevitably associated. As he spun along behind Pepper on the Leith roadthat climbed Willow Brook on the afternoon he had made the appointment, Austen smiled to himself over his anticipations, and yet---beinghuman-let his fancy play. 

The broad acres of Wedderburn stretched across many highways, but themanor-house (as it had been called) stood on an eminence whence one couldlook for miles down the Yale of the Blue. It had once been a farmhouse, but gradually the tail had begun to wag the dog, and the farmhousebecame, like the original stone out of which the Irishman made the soup, difficult to find. Once the edifice had been on the road, but the roadhad long ago been removed to a respectful distance, and Austen enteredbetween two massive pillars built of granite blocks on a musical graveldrive. 

Humphrey Crewe was on the porch, his hands in his pockets, as Austendrove up. 

"Hello, " he said, in a voice probably meant to be hospitable, but whichhad a peremptory ring, "don't stand on ceremony. Hitch your beast andcome along in. "

Having, as it were, superintended the securing of Pepper, Mr. Crewe ledthe way through the house to the study, pausing once or twice to pointout to Austen a carved ivory elephant procured at great expense in China, and a piece of tapestry equally difficult of purchase. The study itselfwas no mere lounging place of a man of pleasure, but sober and formidablebooks were scattered through the cases: "Turner's Evolution of theRailroad, " "Graham's Practical Forestry, " "Eldridge's Finance"; whilewhole shelves of modern husbandry proclaimed that Mr. Humphrey Crewe wasno amateur farmer. There was likewise a shelf devoted to road building, several to knotty-looking pamphlets, and half a wall of neatly labelledpigeonholes. For decoration, there was an oar garnished with a ribbon, and several groups of college undergraduates, mostly either in puffedties or scanty attire, and always prominent in these groups, and alwaysunmistakable, was Mr. Humphrey Crewe himself. 

Mr. Crewe was silent awhile, that this formidable array of things mightmake the proper impression upon his visitor. 

"It was lucky you came to-day, Vane, " he said at length. "I am due in NewYork to-morrow for a directors' meeting, and I have a conference inChicago with a board of trustees of which I am a member on the third. Looking at my array of pamphlets, eh? I've been years in collectingthem, --ever since I left college. Those on railroads ought especially tointerest you--I'm somewhat of a railroad man myself. "

"I didn't know that, " said Austen. 

"Had two or three blocks of stock in subsidiary lines that had to belooked after. It was a nuisance at first, " said Mr. Crewe, "but I didn'tshirk it. I made up my mind I'd get to the bottom of the railroadproblem, and I did. It's no use doing a thing at all unless you do itwell. " Mr. Crewe, his hands still in his pockets, faced Austen smilingly. "Now I'll bet you didn't know I was a railroad man until you came inhere. To tell the truth, it was about a railroad matter that I sent foryou. "

Mr. Crewe lit a cigar, but he did not offer one to Austen, as he had toMr. Tooting. "I wanted to see what you were like, " he continued, withrefreshing frankness. "Of course, I'd seen you on the road. But you canget more of an idea of a man by talkin' to him, you know. "

"You can if he'll talk, " said Austen, who was beginning to enjoy hisvisit. 

Mr. Crewe glanced at him keenly. Few men are fools at all points of thecompass, and Mr. Crewe was far from this. 

"You did well in that little case you had against the Northeastern. Iheard about it. "

"I did my best, " answered Austen, and he smiled again. 

"As some great man has remarked, " observed Mr. Crewe, "it isn't what wedo, it's how we do it. Take pains over the smaller cases, and the largercases will come of themselves, eh?"

"I live in hope, " said Austen, wondering how soon this larger case wasgoing to unfold itself. 

"Let me see, " said Mr. Crewe, "isn't your father the chief attorney inthis State for the Northeastern? How do you happen to be on the otherside?"

"By the happy accident of obtaining a client, " said Austen. 

Mr. Crewe glanced at him again. In spite of himself, respect was growingin him. He had expected to find a certain amount of eagerness andsubserviency--though veiled; here was a man of different calibre than helooked for in Ripton. 

"The fact is, " he declared, "I have a grievance against the NortheasternRailroads, and I have made up my mind that you are the man for me. "

"You may have reason to regret your choice, " Austen suggested. 

"I think not, " replied Mr. Crewe, promptly; "I believe I know a man whenI see one, and you inspire me with confidence. This matter will have adouble interest for you, as I understand you are fond of horses. "

"Horses?"

"Yes, " Mr. Crewe continued, gaining a little heat at the word, "I boughtthe finest-lookin' pair you ever saw in New York this spring, --all-aroundaction, manners, conformation, everything; I'll show 'em to you. One of'em's all right now; this confounded railroad injured the other gettin'him up here. I've put in a claim. They say they didn't, my man says theydid. He tells me the horse was thrown violently against the sides of thecar several times. He's internally injured. I told 'em I'd sue 'em, andI've decided that you are the man to take the case--on conditions. "

Austen's sense of humour saved him, --and Mr. Humphrey Crewe had begun tointerest him. He rose and walked to the window and looked out for a fewmoments over the flower garden before he replied:--"On what conditions?"

"Well, " said Mr. Crewe, "frankly, I don't want to pay more than the horseis worth, and it's business to settle on the fee in case you win. Ithought--"

"You thought, " said Austen, "that I might not charge as much as the nextman. "

"Well, " said Mr. Crewe, "I knew that if you took the case, you'd fight itthrough, and I want to get even with 'em. Their claim agent had theimpudence to suggest that the horse had been doctored by the dealer inNew York. To tell me that I, who have been buying horses all my life, wasfooled. The veterinary swears the animal is ruptured. I'm a citizen ofAvalon County, though many people call me a summer resident; I've donebusiness here and helped improve the neighbourhood for years. It will bemy policy to employ home talent Avalon County lawyers, for instance. Imay say, without indiscretion, that I intend from now on to take even agreater interest in public affairs. The trouble is in this country thatmen in my position do not feel their responsibilities. "

"Public spirit is a rare virtue, " Austen remarked, seeing that he wasexpected to say something. "Avalon County appreciates the compliment, --if I may be permitted to answer for it. "

"I want to do the right thing, " said Mr. Crewe. "In fact, I have almostmade up my mind to go to the Legislature this year. I know it would be asacrifice of time, in a sense, and all that, but--" He paused, and lookedat Austen. 

"The Legislature needs leavening. "

"Precisely, " exclaimed Mr. Crewe, "and when I look around me and see thethings crying to be done in this State, and no lawmaker with sense andforesight enough to propose them, it makes me sick. Now, for instance, "he continued, and rose with an evident attempt to assault the forestryshelves. But Austen rose too. 

"I'd like to go over that with you, Mr. Crewe, " said he, "but I have tobe back in Ripton. "

"How about my case?" his host demanded, with a return to his formerabruptness. 

"What about it?" asked Austen. 

"Are you going to take it?"

"Struggling lawyers don't refuse business. "

"Well, " said Mr. Crewe, "that's sensible. But what are you going tocharge?"

"Now, " said Austen, with entire good humour, "when you get on thatground, you are dealing no longer with one voracious unit, but with awhole profession, --a profession, you will allow me to add, which indignity is second to none. In accordance with the practice of the bestmen in that profession, I will charge you what I believe is fair--notwhat I think you are able and willing to pay. Should you dispute thebill, I will not stoop to quarrel with you, but, try to live on bread andbutter a while longer. "

Mr. Crewe was silent for a moment. It would not be exact to sayuncomfortable, for it is to be doubted whether he ever got so. But hefelt dimly that the relations of patron and patronized were becomingsomewhat jumbled. 

"All right, " said he, "I guess we can let it go at that. Hello! What thedeuce are those women doing here again?"

This irrelevant exclamation was caused by the sight through the openFrench window--of three ladies in the flower garden, two of whom werebending over the beds. The third, upon whose figure Austen's eyes wereriveted, was seated on a stone bench set in a recess of pines, andlooking off into the Yale of the Blue. With no great eagerness, butwithout apology to Austen, Mr. Crewe stepped out of the window andapproached them; and as this was as good a way as any to his horse andbuggy, Austen followed. One of the ladies straightened at theirappearance, scrutinized them through the glasses she held in her hand, and Austen immediately recognized her as the irreproachable Mrs. Pomfret. 

"We didn't mean to disturb you, Humphrey, " she said. "We knew you wouldbe engaged in business, but I told Alice as we drove by I could notresist stopping for one more look at your Canterbury bells. I knew youwouldn't mind, but you mustn't leave your--affairs, --not for an instant. "

The word "affairs" was accompanied by a brief inspection of Austen Vane. 

"That's all right, " answered Mr. Crewe; "it doesn't cost anything to lookat flowers, that's what they're for. Cost something to put 'em in. I gotthat little feller Ridley to lay 'em out--I believe I told you. He's justbeginning. Hello, Alice. "

"I think he did it very well, Humphrey, " said Miss Pomfret. 

"Passably, " said Mr. Crewe. "I told him what I wanted and drew a roughsketch of the garden and the colour scheme. "

"Then you did it, and not Mr. Ridley. I rather suspected it, " said Mrs. Pomfret; "you have such clear and practical ideas about things, Humphrey. "

"It's simple enough, " said Mr. Crewe, deprecatingly, "after you've seen afew hundred gardens and get the general underlying principle. "

"It's very clever, " Alice murmured. 

"Not at all. A little application will do wonders. A certain definitecolour massed here, another definite colour there, and so forth. "

Mr. Crewe spoke as though Alice's praise irritated him slightly. He wavedhis hand to indicate the scheme in general, and glanced at Victoria onthe stone bench. From her (Austen thought) seemed to emanate a silent butmirthful criticism, although she continued to gaze persistently down thevalley, apparently unaware of their voices. Mr. Crewe looked as if hewould have liked to reach her, but the two ladies filled the narrow path, and Mrs. Pomfret put her fingers on his sleeve. 

"Humphrey, you must explain it to us. I am so interested in gardens I'mgoing to have one if Electrics increase their dividend. "

Mr. Crewe began, with no great ardour, to descant on the theory ofplanting, and Austen resolved to remain pocketed and ignored no longer. He retraced his steps and made his way rapidly by another path towardsVictoria, who turned her head at his approach, and rose. He acknowledgedan inward agitation with the vision in his eye of the tall, white figureagainst the pines, clad with the art which, in mysterious simplicity, effaces itself. 

"I was wondering, " she said, as she gave him her hand, "how long it wouldbe before you spoke to me. "

"You gave me no chance, " said Austen, quickly. 

"Do you deserve one?" she asked. 

Before he could answer, Mr. Crewe's explanation of his theories had comelamely to a halt. Austen was aware of the renewed scrutiny of Mrs. Pomfret, and then Mr. Crewe, whom no social manacles could shackle, hadbroken past her and made his way to them. He continued to treat theground on which Austen was standing as unoccupied. 

"Hello, Victoria, " he said, "you don't know anything about gardens, doyou?"

"I don't believe you do either, " was Victoria's surprising reply. 

Mr. Crewe laughed at this pleasantry. 

"How are you going to prove it?" he demanded. 

"By comparing what you've done with Freddie Ridley's original plan, " saidVictoria. 

Mr. Crewe was nettled. 

"Ridley has a lot to learn, " he retorted. "He had no conception of whatwas appropriate here. "

"Freddie was weak, " said Victoria, but he needed the money. Don't youknow Mr. Vane?"

"Yes, " said Mr. Crewe, shortly, "I've been talking to him--on business. "

"Oh, " said Victoria, "I had no means of knowing. Mrs. Pomfret, I want tointroduce Mr. Vane, and Miss Pomfret, Mr. Vane. "

Mrs. Pomfret, who had been hovering on the outskirts of this duel, inclined her head the fraction of an inch, but Alice put out her handwith her sweetest manner. 

"When did you arrive?" she asked. 

"Well, the fact is, I haven't arrived yet, " said Austen. 

"Not arrived" exclaimed Alice, with a puzzled glance into Victoria'slaughing eyes. 

"Perhaps Humphrey will help you along, " Victoria suggested, turning tohim. "He might be induced to give you his celebrated grievance about hishorses. "

"I have given it to him, " said Mr. Crewe, briefly. 

"Cheer up, Mr. Vane, your fortune is made, " said Victoria. 

"Victoria, " said Mrs. Pomfret, in her most imperial voice, "we ought tobe going instantly, or we shan't have time to drop you at the Hammonds'. "

"I'll take you over in the new motor car, " said Mr. Crewe, with his airof conferring a special train. 

"How much is gasoline by the gallon?" inquired Victoria. 

"I did a favour once for the local manager, and get a special price, "said Mr. Crewe. 

"Humphrey, " said Mrs. Pomfret, taking his hand, "don't forget you arecoming to dinner to-night. Four people gave out at the last minute, andthere will be just Alice and myself. I've asked old Mr. Fitzhugh. "

"All right, " said Mr. Crewe, "I'll have the motor car brought around. "

The latter part of this remark was, needless to say, addressed toVictoria. 

"It's awfully good of you, Humphrey, " she answered, "but the Hammonds areon the road to Ripton, and I am going to ask Mr. Vane to drive me downthere behind that adorable horse of his. "

This announcement produced a varied effect upon those who heard it, although all experienced surprise. Mrs. Pomfret, in addition to an angerwhich she controlled only as the result of long practice, was horrified, and once more levelled her glasses at Austen. 

"I think, Victoria, you had better come with us, " she said. "We shallhave plenty of time, if we hurry. "

By this time Austen had recovered his breath. 

"I'll be ready in an instant, " he said, and made brief but polite adieusto the three others. 

"Good-by, " said Alice, vaguely. 

"Let me know when anything develops, " said Mr. Crewe, with his back tohis attorney. 

Austen found Victoria, her colour heightened a little, waiting for him bythe driveway. The Pomfrets had just driven off, and Mr. Crewe was nowhereto be seen. 

"I do not know what you will think of me for taking this for granted, Mr. Vane, " she said as he took his seat beside her, "but I couldn't resistthe chance of driving behind your horse. "

"I realized, " he answered smilingly, "that Pepper was the attraction, andI have more reason than ever to be grateful to him. "

She glanced covertly at the Vane profile, at the sure, restraining handson the reins which governed with so nice a touch the mettle of the horse. His silence gave her time to analyze again her interest in this man, which renewed itself at every meeting. In the garden she had been struckby the superiority of a nature which set at naught what had been, to somesmaller spirits, a difficult situation. She recognized this quality asinborn, but, not knowing of Sarah Austen, she wondered where he got it. Now it was the fact that he refrained from comment that pleased her most. 

"Did Humphrey actually send for you to take up the injured horse case?"she asked. 

Austen flushed. 

"I'm afraid he did. You seem to know all about it, " he added. 

"Know all about it Every one within twenty miles of Leith knows about it. I'm sure the horse was doctored when he bought him. "

"Take care, you may be called as a witness. "

"What I want to know is, why you accepted such a silly case, " saidVictoria. 

Austen looked quizzically into her upturned face, and she dropped hereyes. 

"That's exactly what I should have asked myself, --after a while, " hesaid. 

She laughed with a delicious understanding of "after a while. "

"I suppose you think me frightfully forward, " she said, in a loweredvoice, "inviting myself to drive and asking you such a question when Iscarcely know you. But I just couldn't go on with Mrs. Pomfret, --sheirritated me so, --and my front teeth are too valuable to drive withHumphrey Crewe. "

Austen smiled, and secretly agreed with her. 

"I should have offered, if I had dared, " he said. 

"Dared! I didn't know that was your failing. I don't believe you eventhought of it. "

"Nevertheless, the idea occurred to me, and terrified me, " said Austen. 

"Why?" she asked, turning upon him suddenly. "Why did it terrify you?"

"I should have been presuming upon an accidental acquaintance, which Ihad no means of knowing you wished to continue, " he replied, staring athis horse's head. 

"And I?" Victoria asked. "Presumption multiplies tenfold in a woman, doesn't it?"

"A woman confers, " said Austen. 

She smiled, but with a light in her eyes. This simple sentence seemed toreveal yet more of an inner man different from some of those with whomher life had been cast. It was an American point of view--this choosingto believe that the woman conferred. After offering herself as hispassenger Victoria, too, had had a moment of terror: the action had beenthe result of an impulse which she did not care to attempt to define. Shechanged the subject. 

"You have been winning laurels since I saw you last summer, " she said. "Ihear incidentally you have made our friend Zeb Meader a rich man. "

"As riches go, in the town of Mercer, " Austen laughed. "As for mylaurels, they have not yet begun to chafe. "

Here was a topic he would have avoided, and yet he was curious todiscover what her attitude would be. He had antagonized her father, andthe fact that he was the son of Hilary Vane had given his antagonismprominence. 

"I am glad you did it for Zeb. "

"I should have done it for anybody--much as I like Zeb, " he repliedbriefly. 

She glanced at him. 

"It was--courageous of you, " she said. 

"I have never looked upon it in that light, " he answered. "May I ask youhow you heard of it?"

She coloured, but faced the question. 

"I heard it from my father, at first, and I took an interest--on ZebMeader's account, " she added hastily. 

Austen was silent. 

"Of course, " she continued, "I felt a little like boasting of an'accidental acquaintance' with the man who saved Zeb Meader's life. "

Austen laughed. Then he drew Pepper down to a walk, and turned to her. 

"The power of making it more than an accidental acquaintance lies withyou, " he said quietly. 

"I have always had an idea that aggression was a man's prerogative, "Victoria answered lightly. "And seeing that you have not appeared atFairview for something over a year, I can only conclude that you do notchoose to exercise it in this case. "

Austen was in a cruel quandary. 

"I did wish to come, " he answered simply, "but--the fact that I have hada disagreement with your father has--made it difficult. " "Nonsense"exclaimed Victoria; "just because you have won a suit against hisrailroad. You don't know my father, Mr. Vane. He isn't the kind of manwith whom that would make any difference. You ought to talk it over withhim. He thinks you were foolish to take Zeb Meader's side. "

"And you?" Austen demanded quickly. 

"You see, I'm a woman, " said Victoria, "and I'm prejudiced--for ZebMeader. Women are always prejudiced, --that's our trouble. It seemed to methat Zeb was old, and unfortunate, and ought to be compensated, since heis unable to work. But of course I suppose I can't be expected tounderstand. "

It was true that she could not be expected to understand. He might nottell her that his difference with Mr. Flint was not a mere matter oftaking a small damage suit against his railroad, but a fundamental one. And Austen recognized that the justification of his attitude meant anarraignment of Victoria's father. 

"I wish you might know my father better, Mr. Vane, " she went on, "I wishyou might know him as I know him, if it were possible. You see, I havebeen his constant companion all my life, and I think very few peopleunderstand him as I do, and realize his fine qualities. He makes noattempt to show his best side to the world. His life has been spent infighting, and I am afraid he is apt to meet the world on that footing. Heis a man of such devotion to his duty that he rarely has a day tohimself, and I have known him to sit up until the small hours of themorning to settle some little matter of justice. I do not think I ambetraying his confidence when I say that he is impressed with yourability, and that he liked your manner the only time he ever talked toyou. He believes that you have got, in some way, a wrong idea of what heis trying to do. Why don't you come up and talk to him again?"

"I am afraid your kindness leads you to overrate my importance, " Austenreplied, with mingled feelings. Victoria's confidence in her father madethe situation all the more hopeless. 

"I'm sure I don't, " she answered quickly; "ever since--ever since I firstlaid eyes upon you I have had a kind of belief in you. "

"Belief?" he echoed. 

"Yes, " she said, "belief that--that you had a future. I can't describeit, " she continued, the colour coming into her face again; "one feelsthat way about some people without being able to put the feeling intowords. And have a feeling, too, that I should like you to be friends withmy father. "

Neither of them, perhaps, realized the rapidity with which "accidentalacquaintance" had melted into intimacy. Austen's blood ran faster, but itwas characteristic of him that he tried to steady himself, for he was aVane. He had thought of her many times during the past year, butgradually the intensity of the impression had faded until it had been sounexpectedly and vividly renewed to-day. He was not a man to lose hishead, and the difficulties of the situation made him pause and choose hiswords, while he dared not so much as glance at her as she sat in thesunlight beside him. 

"I should like to be friends with your father, " he answered gravely, --thestatement being so literally true as to have its pathetically humorousaspect. 

"I'll tell him so, Mr. Vane, " she said. 

Austen turned, with a seriousness that dismayed her. 

"I must ask you as a favour not to do that, " he said. 

"Why?" she asked. 

"In the first place, " he answered quietly, "I cannot afford to have Mr. Flint misunderstand my motives. And I ought not to mislead you, " he wenton. "In periods of public controversy, such as we are passing through atpresent, sometimes men's views differ so sharply as to make intercourseimpossible. Your father and I might not agree--politically, let us say. For instance, " he added, with evident hesitation, "my father and Idisagree. "

Victoria was silent. And presently they came to a wire fence overgrownwith Virginia creeper, which divided the shaded road from a wide lawn. 

"Here we are at the Hammonds', and--thank you, " she said. 

Any reply he might have made was forestalled. The insistent andintolerant horn of an automobile, followed now by the scream of thegears, broke the stillness of the country-side, and a familiar voicecried out--"Do you want the whole road?"

Austen turned into the Hammonds' drive as the bulldog nose of a motorforged ahead, and Mr. Crewe swung in the driver's seat. 

"Hello, Victoria, " he shouted, "you people ought to have ear-trumpets. "

The car swerved, narrowly missed a watering fountain where the word"Peace" was inscribed, and shot down the hill. 

"That manner, " said Victoria, as she jumped out of the buggy, "is avaluable political asset. "

"Does he really intend to go into politics?" Austen asked curiously. 

"'Intend' is a mild word applied to Humphrey, " she answered;"'determined' would suit him better. According to him, there is no gamethat cannot be won by dynamics. 'Get out of the way' is his motto. Mrs. Pomfret will tell you how he means to cover the State with good roadsnext year, and take a house in Washington the year after. " She held outher hand. "Good-by, --and I am ever so much obliged to you for bringingme here. "

He drove away towards Ripton with many things to think about, with a lastpicture of her in his mind as she paused for an instant in the flickeringshadows, stroking Pepper's forehead. 

CHAPTER VII

THE LEOPARD AND HIS SPOTS

It is difficult to overestimate the importance of Mr. Humphrey Crewe, ofhis value to the town of Leith, and to the State at large, and in thesepages only a poor attempt at an appreciation of him may be expected. Mr. Crewe by no means underestimated this claim upon the community, and hehad of late been declaring that he was no summer resident. Wedderburn washis home, and there he paid his taxes. Undoubtedly, they were less thancity taxes. 

Although a young man, Mr. Crewe was in all respects a model citizen, anda person of many activities. He had built a farmers' club, to which thefarmers, in gross ingratitude, had never gone. Now it was a summerresidence and distinctly rentable. He had a standing offer to erect alibrary in the village of Leith provided the town would furnish theground, the books, and permit the name of Crewe to be carved in stoneover the doorway. The indifference of the town pained him, and he wasnaturally not a little grieved at the lack of proper feeling of thecountry people of America towards those who would better theirconditions. He had put a large memorial window in the chapel to hisfamily. 

Mr. Crewe had another standing offer to be one of five men to start afarming experiment station--which might pay dividends. He, was a churchwarden; president of a society for turning over crops (which he hadorganized); a member of the State Grange; president of the embryo StateEconomic League (whatever that was); and chairman of the LocalImprovement Board--also a creation of his own. By these tokens, andothers too numerous to mention, it would seem that the inhabitants ofLeith would have jumped at the chance to make such a man one of the fivehundred in their State Legislature. 

To Whitman is attributed the remark that genius is almost one hundred percent directness, but whether or not this applied to Mr. Humphrey Creweremains to be seen. "Dynamics" more surely expressed him. It would notseem to be a very difficult feat, to be sure, to get elected to a StateLegislature of five hundred which met once a year: once in ten years, indeed, might have been more appropriate for the five hundred. The townof Leith with its thousand inhabitants had one representative, and Mr. Crewe had made up his mind he was to be that representative. 

There was, needless to say, great excitement in Leith over Mr. Crewe'sproposed venture into the unknown seas of politics. I mean, of course, that portion of Leith which recognized in Mr. Crewe an eligible bachelorand a person of social importance, for these qualities were notparticularly appealing to the three hundred odd farmers whose votes wereexpected to send him rejoicing to the State capital. 

"It is so rare with us for a gentleman to go into politics, that we oughtto do everything we can to elect him, " Mrs. Pomfret went about declaring. "Women do so much in England, I wonder they don't do more here. I wasstaying at Aylestone Court last year when the Honourable Billy Aylestonewas contesting the family seat with a horrid Radical, and I assure you, my dear, I got quite excited. We did nothing from morning till night butelectioneer for the Honourable Billy, and kissed all the babies in theborough. The mothers were so grateful. Now, Edith, do tell Jack insteadof playing tennis and canoeing all day he ought to help. It's the duty ofall young men to help. Noblesse oblige, you know. I can't understandVictoria. She really has influence with these country people, but shesays it's all nonsense. Sometimes I think Victoria has a common streak inher--and no wonder. The other day she actually drove to the Hammonds' ina buggy with an unknown lawyer from Ripton. But I told you about it. Tellyour gardener and the people that do your haying, dear, and your chickenwoman. My chicken woman is most apathetic, but do you wonder, with thelife they lead?"

Mr. Humphrey Crewe might have had, with King Charles, the watchword"Thorough. " He sent to the town clerk for a check-list, and proceeded tohonour each of the two hundred Republican voters with a personal visit. This is a fair example of what took place in the majority of cases. 

Out of a cloud of dust emerges an automobile, which halts, withprotesting brakes, in front of a neat farmhouse, guarded by great maples. Persistent knocking by a chauffeur at last brings a woman to the door. Mrs. Jenney has a pleasant face and an ample figure. 

"Mr. Jenney live here?" cries Mr. Crewe from the driver's seat. 

"Yes, " says Mrs. Jenney, smiling. 

"Tell him I want to see him. "

"Guess you'll find him in the apple orchard. "

"Where's that?"

The chauffeur takes down the bars, Mr. Jenney pricks up his ears, andpresently--to his amazement--perceives a Leviathan approaching him, careening over the ruts of his wood road. Not being an emotional person, he continues to pick apples until he is summarily hailed. Then he goesleisurely towards the Leviathan. 

"Are you Mr. Jenney?"

"Callate to be, " says Mr. Jenney, pleasantly. 

"I'm Humphrey Crewe. "

"How be you?" says Mr. Jenney, his eyes wandering over the Leviathan. 

"How are the apples this year?" asks Mr. Crewe, graciously. 

"Fair to middlin', " says Mr. Jenney. 

"Have you ever tasted my Pippins?" says Mr. Crewe. "A little science incultivation helps along. I'm going to send you a United States governmentpamphlet on the fruit we can raise here. "

Mr. Jenney makes an awkward pause by keeping silent on the subject of thepamphlet until he shall see it. 

"Do you take much interest in politics?"

"Not a great deal, " answers Mr. Jenney. 

"That's the trouble with Americans, " Mr. Crewe declares, "they don't carewho represents 'em, or whether their government's good or bad. "

"Guess that's so, " replies Mr. Jenney, politely. 

"That sort of thing's got to stop, " declares Mr. Crewe; "I'm a candidatefor the Republican nomination for representative. "

"I want to know!" ejaculates Mr. Jenney, pulling his beard. One wouldnever suspect that this has been one of Mr. Jenney's chief topics oflate. 

"I'll see that the interests of this town are cared for. "

"Let's see, " says Mr. Jenney, "there's five hundred in the House, ain'tthere?"

"It's a ridiculous number, " says Mr. Crewe, with truth. 

"Gives everybody a chance to go, " says Mr. Jenney. "I was thar in '78, and enjoyed it some. "

"Who are you for?" demanded Mr. Crewe, combating the tendency of theconversation to slip into a pocket. 

"Little early yet, hain't it? Hain't made up my mind. Who's thecandidates?" asks Mr. Jenney, continuing to stroke his beard. 

"I don't know, " says Mr. Crewe, "but I do know I've done something forthis town, and I hope you'll take it into consideration. Come and see mewhen you go to the village. I'll give you a good cigar, and thatpamphlet, and we'll talk matters over. "

"Never would have thought to see one of them things in my orchard, " saysMr. Jenney. "How much do they cost? Much as a locomotive, don't they?"

It would not be exact to say that, after some weeks of this sort ofcampaigning, Mr. Crewe was discouraged, for such writhe vitality withwhich nature had charged him that he did not know the meaning of theword. He was merely puzzled, as a June-bug is puzzled when it bumps upagainst a wire window-screen. He had pledged to him his own gardener, Mrs. Pomfret's, the hired men of three of his neighbours, a few modestsouls who habitually took off their hats to him, and Mr. Ball, of thevillage, who sold groceries to Wedderburn and was a general handy man forthe summer people. Mr. Ball was an agitator by temperament and a promoterby preference. If you were a summer resident of importance and neededanything from a sewing-machine to a Holstein heifer, Mr. Ball, thegrocer, would accommodate you. When Mrs. Pomfret's cook became inebriateand refractory, Mr. Ball was sent for, and enticed her to the station andon board of a train; when the Chillinghams' tank overflowed, Mr. Ballfound the proper valve and saved the house from being washed away. And itwas he who, after Mrs. Pomfret, took the keenest interest in Mr. Crewe'scampaign. At length came one day when Mr. Crewe pulled up in front of thegrocery store and called, as his custom was, loudly for Mr. Ball. Thefact that Mr. Ball was waiting on customers made no difference, andpresently that gentleman appeared, rubbing his hands together. 

"How do you do, Mr. Crewe?" he said, "automobile going all right?"

"What's the matter with these fellers?" said Mr. Crewe. "Haven't I doneenough for the town? Didn't I get 'em rural free delivery? Didn't Isubscribe to the meeting-house and library, and don't I pay more taxesthan anybody else?"

"Certain, " assented Mr. Ball, eagerly, "certain you do. " It did not seemto occur to him that it was unfair to make him responsible for the scurvyingratitude of his townsmen. He stepped gingerly down into the dust andclimbed up on the tool box. 

"Look out, " said Mr. Crewe, "don't scratch the varnish. What is it?"

Mr. Ball shifted obediently to the rubber-covered step, and bent his faceto his patron's ear. 

"It's railrud, " he said. 

"Railroad!" shouted Mr. Crewe, in a voice that made the grocer clutch hisarm in terror. "Don't pinch me like that. Railroad! This town ain'twithin ten miles of the railroad. "

"For the love of David, " said Mr. Ball, "don't talk so loud, Mr. Crewe. "

"What's the railroad got to do with it?" Mr. Crewe demanded. 

Mr. Ball glanced around him, to make sure that no one was within shoutingdistance. 

"What's the railrud got to do with anything in this State?" inquired Mr. Ball, craftily. 

"That's different, " said Mr. Crewe, shortly, "I'm a corporation manmyself. They've got to defend 'emselves. "

"Certain. I ain't got anything again' 'em, " Mr. Ball agreed quickly. "Iguess they know what they're about. By the bye, Mr. Crewe, " he added, coming dangerously near the varnish again, and drawing back, "you hain'thappened to have seen Job Braden, have you?"

"Job Braden!" exclaimed Mr. Crewe, "Job Braden! What's all this mysteryabout Job Braden? Somebody whispers that name in my ear every day. If youmean that smooth-faced cuss that stutters and lives on Braden's Hill, Icalled on him, but he was out. If you see him, tell him to come up toWedderburn, and I'll talk with him. "

Mr. Ball made a gesture to indicate a feeling divided between respect forMr. Crewe and despair at the hardihood of such a proposition. 

"Lord bless you, sir, Job wouldn't go. "

"Wouldn't go?"

"He never pays visits, --folks go to him. "

"He'd come to see me, wouldn't he?"

"I--I'm afraid riot, Mr. Crewe. Job holds his comb rather high. "

"Do you mean to say this two-for-a-cent town has a boss?"

"Silas Grantley was born here, " said Mr. Ball--for even the worm willturn. "This town's got a noble history. "

"I don't care anything about Silas Grantley. What I want to know is, howthis rascal manages to make anything out of the political pickings of atown like Leith. "

"Well, Job ain't exactly a rascal, Mr. Crewe. He's got a good many ofthem hill farmers in a position of--of gratitude. Enough to control theRepublican caucus. "

"Do you mean he buys their votes?" demanded Mr. Crewe. 

"It's like this, " explained Mr. Ball, "if one of 'em falls behind in hisgrocery bill, for example, he can always get money from Job. Job takes amortgage, but he don't often close down on 'm. And Job has beencollectin' credentials in Avalon County for upward of forty years. "

"Collecting credentials?"

"Yes. Gets a man nominated to State and county conventions that can't go, and goes himself with a bunch of credentials. He's in a position tonegotiate. He was in all them railrud fights with Jethro Bass, and now hedoes business with Hilary Vane or Brush Bascom when anything especial'sgoin' on. You'd ought to see him, Mr. Crewe. "

"I guess I won't waste my time with any picayune boss if the UnitedNortheastern Railroads has any hand in this matter, " declared Mr. Crewe. "Wind her up. "

This latter remark was addressed to a long-suffering chauffeur who lookedlike a Sicilian brigand. 

"I didn't exactly like to suggest it, " said Mr. Ball, rubbing his handsand raising his voice above the whir of the machine, "but of course Iknew Mr. Flint was an intimate friend. A word to him from you--"

But by this Mr. Crewe had got in his second speed and was sweeping arounda corner lined with farmers' teams, whose animals were behaving likecircus horses. On his own driveway, where he arrived in incredibly brieftime, he met his stenographer, farm superintendent, secretary, housekeeper, and general utility man, Mr. Raikes. Mr. Raikes was elderly, and showed signs of needing a vacation. 

"Telephone Mr. Flint, Raikes, and tell him I would like an appointment athis earliest convenience, on important business. "

Mr. Raikes, who was going for his daily stroll beside the river, wheeledand made for the telephone, and brought back the news that Mr. Flintwould be happy to see Mr. Crewe the next afternoon at four o'clock. 

This interview, about which there has been so much controversy in thenewspapers, and denials and counter-denials from the press bureaus ofboth gentlemen, --this now historic interview began at four o'clockprecisely the next day. At that hour Mr. Crewe was ushered into thatlittle room in which Mr. Flint worked when at Fairview. Like Frederickthe Great and other famous captains, Mr. Flint believed in an ironbedstead regime. The magnate was, as usual, fortified behind his oakdesk; the secretary with a bend in his back was in modest evidence; andan elderly man of comfortable proportions, with a large gold watch-charmportraying the rising sun, and who gave, somehow, the polished impressionof a marble, sat near the window smoking a cigar. Mr. Crewe approachedthe desk with that genial and brisk manner for which he was noted andheld out his hand to the railroad president. 

"We are both business men, and both punctual, Mr. Flint, " he said, andsat down in the empty chair beside his host, eyeing without particularfavour him of the watch-charm, whose cigar was not a very good one. "Iwanted to have a little private conversation with you which might be ofconsiderable interest to us both. " And Mr. Crewe laid down on the desk asomewhat formidable roll of papers. 

"I trust the presence of Senator Whitredge will not deter you, " answeredMr. Flint. "He is an old friend of mine. "

Mr. Crewe was on his feet again with surprising alacrity, and beside thesenator's chair. 

"How are you, Senator?" he said, "I have never had the pleasure ofmeeting you, but I know you by reputation. "

The senator got to his feet. They shook hands, and exchanged cordialgreetings; and during the exchange Mr. Crewe looked out of the window, and the senator's eyes were fixed on the telephone receiver on Mr. Flint's desk. As neither gentleman took hold of the other's fingers veryhard, they fell apart quickly. 

"I am very happy to meet you, Mr. Crewe, " said the senator. Mr. Crewe satdown again, and not being hampered by those shrinking qualities so fatalto success he went on immediately:--"There is nothing which I have tosay that the senator cannot hear. I made the appointment with you, Mr. Flint, to talk over a matter which may be of considerable importance tous both. I have made up my mind to go to the Legislature. "

Mr. Crewe naturally expected to find visible effects of astonishment andjoy on the faces of his hearers at such not inconsiderable news. Mr. Flint, however, looked serious enough, though the senator smiled as heblew his smoke out of the window. 

"Have you seen Job Braden, Mr. Crewe?" he asked, with genial jocoseness. "They tell me that Job is still alive and kicking over in your parts. "

"Thank you, Senator, " said Mr. Crewe, "that brings me to the very point Iwish to emphasize. Everywhere in Leith I am met with the remark, 'Haveyou seen Job Braden?' And I always answer, 'No, I haven't seen Mr. Braden, and I don't intend to see him. "'

Mr. Whitredge laughed, and blew out a ring of smoke. Mr. Flint's faceremained sober. 

"Now, Mr. Flint, " Mr. Crewe went on, "you and I understand each other, and we're on the same side of the fence. I have inherited some interestsin corporations myself, and I have acquired an interest in others. I am adirector in several. I believe that it is the duty of property to protectitself, and the duty of all good men in politics, --such as the senatorhere, "--(bow from Mr. Whitredge) to protect property. I am a practicalman, and I think I can convince you, if you don't see it already, that mydetermination to go to the Legislature is an advantageous thing for yourrailroad. "

"The advent of a reputable citizen into politics is always a good thingfor the railroad, Mr. Crewe, " said Mr. Flint. 

"Exactly, " Mr. Crewe agreed, ignoring the non-committal quality of thisremark, "and if you get a citizen who is a not inconsiderable propertyholder, a gentleman, and a college graduate, --a man who, by study andpredilection, is qualified to bring about improved conditions in theState, so much the better. "

"So much the better, " said Mr. Flint. 

"I thought you would see it that way, " Mr. Crewe continued. "Now a man ofyour calibre must have studied to some extent the needs of the State, andit must have struck you that certain improvements go hand in hand withthe prosperity of your railroad. "

"Have a cigar, Mr. Crewe. Have another, Senator?" said Mr. Flint. "Ithink that is safe as a general proposition, Mr. Crewe. "

"To specify, " said Mr. Crewe, laying his hand on the roll of papers hehad brought, "I have here bills which I have carefully drawn up and whichI will leave for your consideration. One is to issue bonds for tenmillions to build State roads. "

"Ten millions!" said Mr. Flint, and the senator whistled mildly. 

"Think about it, " said Mr. Crewe, "the perfection of the highways throughthe State, instead of decreasing your earnings, would increase themtremendously. Visitors by the tens of thousands would come inautomobiles, and remain and buy summer places. The State would have itsmoney back in taxes and business in no time at all. I wonder somebodyhasn't seen it before--the stupidity of the country legislator iscolossal. And we want forestry laws, and laws for improving the conditionof the farmers--all practical things. They are all there, " Mr. Crewedeclared, slapping the bundle; "read them, Mr. Flint. If you have anysuggestions to make, kindly note them on the margin, and I shall be gladto go over them with you. "

By this time the senator was in a rare posture for him--he was seatedupright. 

"As you know, I am a very busy man, Mr. Crewe, " said the railroadpresident. 

"No one appreciates that more fully than I do, Mr. Flint, " said Mr. Crewe; "I haven't many idle hours myself. I think you will find the billsand my comments on them well worth your consideration from the point ofview of advantage to your railroad. They are typewritten, and in concreteform. In fact, the Northeastern Railroads and myself must work togetherto our mutual advantage--that has become quite clear to me. I shall haveneed of your help in passing the measures. "

"I'm afraid I don't quite understand you, Mr. Crewe, " said Mr. Flint, putting down the papers. 

"That is, " said Mr. Crewe, "if you approve of the bills, and I amconfident that I shall be able to convince you. "

"What do you want me to do?" asked the railroad president. 

"Well, in the first place, " said Mr. Crewe, unabashed, "send word to yourman Braden that you've seen me and it's all right. "

"I assure you, " answered Mr. Flint, giving evidence for the first time ofa loss of patience, "that neither the Northeastern Railroads nor myself, have any more to do with this Braden than you have. "

Mr. Crewe, being a man of the world, looked incredulous. 

"Senator, " Mr. Flint continued, turning to Mr. Whitredge, "you know asmuch about politics in this State as any man of my acquaintance, have youever heard of any connection between this Braden and the NortheasternRailroads?"

The senator had a laugh that was particularly disarming. 

"Bless your soul, no, " he replied. "You will pardon me, Mr. Crewe, butyou must have been listening to some farmer's tale. The railroad is thebugaboo in all these country romances. I've seen old Job Braden atconventions ever since I was a lad. He's a back number, one of the fewremaining disciples and imitators of Jethro Bass: talks like him and actslike him. In the old days when there were a lot of little railroads, heand Bijah Bixby and a few others used to make something out of them, butsince the consolidation, and Mr. Flint's presidency, Job stays at home. They tell me he runs Leith yet. You'd better go over and fix it up withhim. "

A somewhat sarcastic smile of satisfaction was playing over Mr. Flint'sface as he listened to the senator's words. As a matter of fact, theywere very nearly true as regarded Job Braden, but Mr. Crewe may bepardoned for thinking that Mr. Flint was not showing him quite theconfidence due from one business and corporation man to another. He wasby no means abashed, --Mr. Crewe had too much spirit for that. He merelybecame--as a man whose watchword is "thorough" will--a little morecombative. 

"Well, read the bills anyway, Mr. Flint, and I'll come and go over themwith you. You can't fail to see my arguments, and all I ask is that youthrow the weight of your organization at the State capital for them whenthey come up. "

Mr. Flint drummed on the table. 

"The men who have held office in this State, " he said, "have always beenwilling to listen to any suggestion I may have thought proper to make tothem. This is undoubtedly because I am at the head of the property whichpays the largest taxes. Needless to say I am chary of making suggestions. But I am surprised that you should have jumped at a conclusion which isthe result of a popular and unfortunately prevalent opinion that theNortheastern Railroads meddled in any way with the government or politicsof this State. I am glad of this opportunity of assuring you that we donot, " he continued, leaning forward and holding up his hand to ward offinterruption, "and I know that Senator Whitredge will bear me out in thisstatement, too. "

The senator nodded gravely. Mr. Crewe, who was anything but a fool, andjust as assertive as Mr. Flint, cut in. 

"Look here, Mr. Flint, " he said, "I know what a lobby is. I haven't beena director in railroads myself for nothing. I have no objection to alobby. You employ counsel before the Legislature, don't you--"

"We do, " said Mr. Flint, interrupting, "the best and most honourablecounsel we can find in the State. When necessary, they appear before thelegislative committees. As a property holder in the State, and an admirerof its beauties, and as its well-wisher, it will give me great pleasureto look over your bills, and use whatever personal influence I may haveas a citizen to forward them, should they meet my approval. And I amespecially glad to do this as a neighbour, Mr. Crewe. As a neighbour, " herepeated, significantly. 

The president of the Northeastern Railroads rose as he spoke these words, and held out his hand to Mr. Crewe. It was perhaps a coincidence that thesenator rose also. 

"All right, " said Mr. Crewe, "I'll call around again in about two weeks. Come and see me sometime, Senator. " "Thank you, " said the senator, "Ishall be happy. And if you are ever in your automobile near the town ofRamsey, stop at my little farm, Mr. Crewe. I trust to be able soon tocongratulate you on a step which I am sure will be but the beginning ofa long and brilliant political career. "

"Thanks, " said Mr. Crewe; "by the bye, if you could see your way to dropa hint to that feller Braden, I should be much obliged. "

The senator shook his head and laughed. 

"Job is an independent cuss, " he said, "I'm afraid he'd regard that as anunwarranted trespass on his preserves. "

Mr. Crewe was ushered out by the stooping secretary, Mr. Freeman; who, instead of seizing Mr. Crewe's hand as he had Austen Vane's, said not aword. But Mr. Crewe would have been interested if he could have heard Mr. Flint's first remark to the senator after the door was closed on hisback. It did not relate to Mr. Crewe, but to the subject under discussionwhich he had interrupted; namely, the Republican candidates for thetwenty senatorial districts of the State. 

On its way back to Leith the red motor paused in front of Mr. Ball'sstore, and that gentleman was summoned in the usual manner. 

"Do you see this Braden once in a while?" Mr. Crewe demanded. 

Mr. Ball looked knowing. 

"Tell him I want to have a talk with him, " said Mr. Crewe. "I've been tosee Mr. Flint, and I think matters can be arranged. And mind you, no wordabout this, Ball. "

"I guess I understand a thing or two, " said Mr. Ball. "Trust me to handleit. "

Two days later, as Mr. Crewe was seated in his study, his man entered andstood respectfully waiting for the time when he should look up from hisbook. 

"Well, what is it now, Waters?"

"If you please, sir, " said the man, "a strange message has come over thetelephone just now that you were to be in room number twelve of theRipton House to-morrow at ten o'clock. They wouldn't give any name, sir, "added the dignified Waters, who, to tell the truth, was somewhatoutraged, nor tell where they telephoned from. But it was a man's voice, sir. "

"All right, " said Mr. Crewe. 

He spent much of the afternoon and evening debating whether or not hisdignity would permit him to go. But he ordered the motor at half-pastnine, and at ten o'clock precisely the clerk at the Ripton House wasbowing to him and handing him, deferentially, a dripping pen. 

"Where's room number twelve?" said the direct Mr. Crewe. 

"Oh, " said the clerk, and possessing a full share of the worldly wisdomof his calling, he smiled broadly. "I guess you'll find him up there, Mr. Crewe. Front, show the gentleman to number twelve. "

The hall boy knocked on the door of number twelve. 

"C--come in, " said a voice. "Come in. "

Mr. Crewe entered, the hall boy closed the door, and he found himselfface to face with a comfortable, smooth-faced man seated with greatplacidity on a rocking-chair in the centre of the room, between the bedand the marble-topped table: a man to whom, evidently, a rich abundanceof thought was sufficient company, for he had neither newspaper nor book. He rose in a leisurely fashion, and seemed the very essence of the benignas he stretched forth his hand. 

"I'm Mr. Crewe, " the owner of that name proclaimed, accepting the handwith no exaggeration of cordiality. The situation jarred on him a trifle. 

"I know. Seed you on the road once or twice. How be you?"

Mr. Crewe sat down. 

"I suppose you are Mr. Braden, " he said. 

Mr. Braden sank into the rocker and fingered a waistcoat pocket full ofcigars that looked like a section of a cartridge-belt. 

"T--try one of mine, " he said. 

"I only smoke once after breakfast, " said Mr. Crewe. 

"Abstemious, be you? Never could find that it did me any hurt. "

This led to an awkward pause, Mr. Crewe not being a man who found profitin idle discussion. He glanced at Mr. Braden's philanthropic and beamingcountenance, which would have made the fortune of a bishop. It was notusual for Mr. Crewe to find it difficult to begin a conversation, or tohave a companion as self-sufficient as himself. This man Braden had allthe fun, apparently, in sitting in a chair and looking into space thatStonewall Jackson had, or an ordinary man in watching a performance of "ATrip to Chinatown. " Let it not be inferred, again, that Mr. Crewe wasabashed; but he was puzzled. 

"I had an engagement in Ripton this morning, " he said, "to see about somebusiness matters. And after I received your telephone I thought I'd dropin here. "

"Didn't telephone, " said Mr. Braden, placidly. 

"What!" said Mr. Crewe, "I certainly got a telephone message. "

"N--never telephone, " said Mr. Braden. 

"I certainly got a message from you, " Mr. Crewe protested. 

"Didn't say it was from me--didn't say so--did they--"

"No, " said Mr. Crewe, "but--"

"Told Ball you wanted to have me see you, didn't you?"

Mr. Crewe, when he had unravelled this sentence, did not fancy the way itwas put. 

"I told Ball I was seeing everybody in Leith, " he answered, "and that Ihad called on you, and you weren't at home. Ball inferred that you had asomewhat singular way of seeing people. "

"You don't understand, " was Mr. Braden's somewhat enigmatic reply. 

"I understand pretty well, " said Mr. Crewe. "I'm a candidate for theRepublican nomination for representative from Leith, and I want your voteand influence. You probably know what I have done for the town, and thatI'm the biggest taxpayer, and an all-the-year-round resident. "

"S--some in Noo York--hain't you?"

"Well, you can't expect a man in my position and with my interests tostay at home all the time. I feel that I have a right to ask the town forthis nomination. I have some bills here which I'll request you to readover, and you will see that I have ideas which are of real value to theState. The State needs waking up-progressive measures. You're a farmer, ain't you?"

"Well, I have be'n. "

"I can improve the condition of the farmer one hundred per cent, and ifmy road system is followed, he can get his goods to market for about atenth of what it costs him now. We have infinitely valuable forests inthe State which are being wasted by lumbermen, which ought to bepreserved. You read those bills, and what I have written about them. "

"You don't understand, " said Mr. Braden, drawing a little closer andwaving aside the manuscript with his cigar. 

"Don't understand what?"

"Don't seem to understand, " repeated Mr. Braden, confidingly laying hishand on Mr. Crewe's knee. "Candidate for representative, be you?"

"Yes, " replied Mr. Crewe, who was beginning to resent the manner in whichhe deemed he was being played with, "I told you I was. "

"M--made all them bills out before you was chose?" said Mr. Braden. 

Mr. Crewe grew red in the face. 

"I am interested in these questions, " he said stiffly. 

"Little mite hasty, wahn't it?" Mr. Braden remarked equably, "but you'vegot plenty of time and money to fool with such things, if you've a mindto. Them don't amount to a hill of beans in politics. Nobody pays anyattention to that sort of fireworks down to the capital, and if they wasto get into committee them Northeastern Railroads fellers'd bury 'emdeeper than the bottom of Salem pond. They don't want no such things asthem to pass. "

"Pardon me, " said Mr. Crewe, "but you haven't read 'em. "

"I know what they be, " said Mr. Braden, "I've be'n in politics more yearsthan you've be'n livin', I guess. I don't want to read 'em, " heannounced, his benign manner unchanged. 

"I think you have made a mistake so far as the railroad is concerned, Mr. Braden, " said Mr. Crewe, "I'm a practical man myself, and I don't indulgein moonshine. I am a director in one or two railroads. I have talked thismatter over with Mr. Flint, and incidentally with Senator Whitredge. "

"Knowed Whitredge afore you had any teeth, " said Mr. Braden, who did notseem to be greatly impressed, "know him intimate. What'd you go to Flintfor?"

"We have interests in common, " said Mr. Crewe, "and I am rather a closefriend of his. My going to the Legislature will be, I think, to ourmutual advantage. "

"O--ought to have come right to me, " said Mr. Braden, leaning over untilhis face was in close proximity to Mr. Crewe's. "Whitredge told you tocome to me, didn't he?"

Mr. Crewe was a little taken aback. 

"The senator mentioned your name, " he admitted. 

"He knows. Said I was the man to see if you was a candidate, didn't he?Told you to talk to Job Braden, didn't he?"

Now Mr. Crewe had no means of knowing whether Senator Whitredge had beenin conference with Mr. Braden or not. 

"The senator mentioned your name casually, in some connection, " said Mr. Crewe. 

"He knows, " Mr. Braden repeated, with a finality that spoke volumes forthe senator's judgment; and he bent over into Mr. Crewe's ear, with theair of conveying a mild but well-merited reproof, "You'd ought to comeright to me in the first place. I could have saved you all thatunnecessary trouble of seein' folks. There hasn't be'n a representativeleft the town of Leith for thirty years that I hain't agreed to. Whitredge knows that. If I say you kin go, you kin go. You understand, "said Mr. Braden, with his fingers on Mr. Crewe's knee once more. 

Five minutes later Mr. Crewe emerged into the dazzling sun of the Riptonsquare, climbed into his automobile, and turned its head towards Leith, strangely forgetting the main engagement which he said had brought him totown. 

CHAPTER VIII

THE TRIALS OF AN HONOURABLE

It was about this time that Mr. Humphrey Crewe was transformed, by one ofthose subtle and inexplicable changes which occur in American politics, into the Honourable Humphrey Crewe. And, as interesting bits of newsabout important people are bound to leak out, it became known in Leiththat he had subscribed to what is known as a Clipping Bureau. Two weeksafter the day he left Mr. Braden's presence in the Ripton House theprincipal newspapers of the country contained the startling announcementthat the well-known summer colony of Leith was to be represented in theState Legislature by a millionaire. The Republican nomination, which Mr. Crewe had secured, was equivalent to an election. 

For a little time after that Mr. Crewe, although naturally an importantand busy man, scarcely had time to nod to his friends on the road. 

"Poor dear Humphrey, " said Mrs. Pomfret, "who was so used to dropping into dinner, hasn't had a moment to write me a line to thank me for thestatesman's diary I bought for him in London this spring. They're in thatnew red leather, and Aylestone says he finds his so useful. I dropped inat Wedderburn to-day to see if I could be of any help, and the poor manwas buttonholed by two reporters who had come all the way from New Yorkto see him. I hope he won't overdo it. "

It was true. Mr. Crewe was to appear in the Sunday supplements. "Are ourMillionaires entering Politics?" Mr. Crewe, with his usual gracioushospitality, showed the reporters over the place, and gave themsuggestions as to the best vantage-points in which to plant theircameras. He himself was at length prevailed upon to be taken in a roughhomespun suit, and with a walking-stick in his hand, appraising with aknowing eye a flock of his own sheep. Pressed a little, he consented torelate something of the systematic manner in which he had gone about tosecure this nomination: how he had visited in person the homes of hisfellow-townsmen. "I knew them all, anyway, " he is quoted as saying; "wehave had the pleasantest of relationships during the many years I havebeen a resident of Leith. "

"Beloved of his townspeople, " this part of the article was headed. No, these were not Mr. Crewe's words--he was too modest for that. When urgedto give the name of one of his townsmen who might deal with this andother embarrassing topics, Mr. Ball was mentioned. "Beloved of histownspeople" was Mr. Ball's phrase. "Although a multi-millionaire, no manis more considerate of the feelings and the rights of his more humbleneighbours. Send him to the Legislature! We'd send him to the UnitedStates Senate if we could. He'll land there, anyway. " Such was a randomestimate (Mr. Ball's) the reporters gathered on their way to Ripton. Mr. Crewe did not hesitate to say that the prosperity of the farmers hadrisen as a result of his labours at Wedderburn where the most improvedmachinery and methods were adopted. His efforts to raise theagricultural, as well as the moral and intellectual, tone of thecommunity had been unceasing. 

Then followed an intelligent abstract of the bills he was to introduce--the results of a progressive and statesmanlike brain. There was anaccount of him as a methodical and painstaking business man whosesuggestions to the boards of directors of which he was a member had beeninvaluable. The article ended with a list of the clubs to which hebelonged, of the societies which he had organized and of those of whichhe was a member, --and it might have been remarked by a discerning readerthat most of these societies were State affairs. Finally there was a penportrait of an Apollo Belvidere who wore the rough garb of a farmer (onthe days when the press was present). 

Mr. Crewe's incessant trials, which would have taxed a less ruggednature, did not end here. About five o'clock one afternoon apleasant-appearing gentleman with a mellifluous voice turned up whointroduced himself as ex (State) Senator Grady. The senator was fromNewcastle, that city out of the mysterious depths of which so manypolitical stars have arisen. Mr. Crewe cancelled a long-deferredengagement with Mrs. Pomfret, and invited the senator to stay to dinner;the senator hesitated, explained that he was just passing through Ripton, and, as it was a pleasant afternoon, had called to "pay his respects";but Mr. Crewe's well-known hospitality would accept no excuses. Mr. Creweopened a box of cigars which he had bought especially for the taste ofState senators and a particular grade of Scotch whiskey. 

They talked politics for four hours. Who would be governor? The senatorthought Asa Gray would. The railroad was behind him, Mr. Crewe observedknowingly. The senator remarked that Mr. Crewe was no gosling. Mr. Crewe, as political-geniuses will, asked as many questions as the emperor ofGermany--pertinent questions about State politics. Senator Grady wastremendously impressed with his host's programme of bills, and went overthem so painstakingly that Mr. Crewe became more and more struck withSenator Grady's intelligence. The senator told Mr. Crewe that just such aman as he was needed to pull the State out of the rut into which she hadfallen. Mr. Crewe said that he hoped to find such enlightened men in theLegislature as the senator. The senator let it be known that he had readthe newspaper articles, and had remarked that Mr. Crewe was close to thepresident of the Northeastern Railroads. 

"Such a man as you, " said the senator, looking at the remainder of theScotch whiskey, "will have the railroad behind you, sure. "

"One more drink, " said Mr. Crewe. 

"I must go, " said Mr. Grady, pouring it out, but that reminds me. Itcomes over me sudden-like, as I sit here, that you certainly ought to bein the new encyclopeedie of the prominent men of the State. But sure youhave received an application. "

"It is probable that my secretary has one, " said Mr. Crewe, "but hehasn't called it to my attention. "

"You must get in that book, Mr. Crewe, " said the senator, with an intenseearnestness which gave the impression of alarm; "after what you've toldme to-night I'll see to it myself that you get in. It may be that I'vegot some of the sample pages here, if I haven't left them at home, " saidMr. Grady, fumbling in an ample inside pocket, and drawing forth abundle. "Sure, here they are. Ain't that luck for you? Listen! 'Asa P. Gray was born on the third of August, eighteen forty-seven, the seventhson of a farmer. See, there's a space in the end they left to fill upwhen he's elicted governor! Here's another. The Honourable Hilary Vanecomes from one of the oldest Puritan families in the State, the Vanes ofCamden Street--' Here's another. 'The Honourable Brush Bascom of PutnamCounty is the son of poor but honourable parents--' Look at the pictureof him. Ain't that a handsome steel-engravin' of the gentleman?"

Mr. Crewe gazed contemplatively at the proof, but was too busy with hisown thoughts to reflect that there was evidently not much poor orhonourable about Mr. Bascom now. 

"Who's publishing this?" he asked. 

"Fogarty and Company; sure they're the best publishers in the State, asyou know, Mr. Crewe. They have the State printing. Wasn't it fortunate Ihad the proofs with me? Tim Fogarty slipped them into me pocket when Iwas leavin' Newcastle. 'The book is goin' to press the day aftereliction, ' says he, 'John, ' says he, 'you know I always rely on yourjudgment, and if you happen to think of anybody between now and then whoought to go in, you'll notify me, ' says he. When I read the billsto-night, and saw the scope of your work, it came over me in a flash thatHumphrey Crewe was the man they left out. You'll get a good man to writeyour life, and what you done for the town and State, and all themsocieties and bills, won't you? 'Twould be a thousand pities not to haveit right. "

"How much does it cost?" Mr. Crewe inquired. 

"Sure I forgot to ask Tim Fogarty. Mebbe he has it here. I signed onemyself, but I couldn't afford the steelengravin'. Yes, he slipped one in. Two hundred dollars for a two-page biography, and, three hundred for thesteelengravin'. Five hundred dollars. I didn't know it was so cheap asthat, " exclaimed the senator, "and everybody in the State havin' to ownone in self-protection. You don't happen to have a pen about you?"

Mr. Crewe waved the senator towards his own desk, and Mr. Grady filledout the blank. 

"It's lucky we are that I didn't drop in after eliction, and the book inpress, " he remarked; "and I hope you'll give him a good photograph. This's for you, I'll take this to Tim myself, " and he handed the pen forMr. Crewe to sign with. 

Mr. Crewe read over the agreement carefully, as a business man should, before putting his signature to it. And then the senator, with renewedinvitations for Mr. Crewe to call on him when he came to Newcastle, tookhis departure. Afterwards Mr. Crewe remained so long in reflection thathis man Waters became alarmed, and sought him out and interrupted hisrevery. 

The next morning Mrs. Pomfret, who was merely "driving by" with herdaughter Alice and Beatrice Chillingham, spied Mr. Crewe walking aboutamong the young trees he was growing near the road, and occasionallytapping them with his stout stick. She poked her coachman in the back andcried:--"Humphrey, you're such an important man now that I despair ofever seeing you again. What was the matter last night?"

"A politician from Newcastle, " answered Mr. Crewe, continuing to tap thetrees, and without so much as a glance at Alice. 

"Well, if you're as important as this before you're elected, I can'tthink what it will be afterwards, " Mrs. Pomfret lamented. "Poor dearHumphrey is so conscientious. When can you come, Humphrey?"

"Don't know, " said Mr. Crewe; "I'll try to come tonight, but I may bestopped again. Here's Waters now. "

The three people in Mrs. Pomfret's victoria were considerably impressedto see the dignified Waters hurrying down the slope from the housetowards them. Mr. Crewe continued to tap the trees, but drew a littlenearer the carriage. 

"If you please, sir, " said Waters, "there's a telephone call for you fromNewcastle. It's urgent, sir. "

"Who is it?"

"They won't give their names, sir. "

"All right, " said Mr. Crewe, and with a grin which spoke volumes for themanner in which he was harassed he started towards the house--in no greathurry, however. Reaching the instrument, and saying "Hello" in hisusually gracious manner, he was greeted by a voice with a decidedHibernian-American accent. 

"Am I talkin' to Mr. Crewe?"

"Yes. "

"Mr. Humphrey Crewe?"

"Yes--yes, of course you are. Who are you?"

"I'm the president of the Paradise Benevolent and Military Association, Mr. Crewe. Boys that work in the mills, you know, " continued the voice, caressingly. "Sure you've heard of us. We're five hundred strong, and allof us good Republicans as the president. We're to have our annual fallouting the first of October in Finney Grove, and we'd like to have youcome down. "

"The first of October?" said Mr. Crewe. "I'll consult my engagementbook. "

"We'd like to have a good picture of you in our programme, Mr. Crewe. Wehope you'll oblige us. You're such an important figure in State politicsnow you'd ought to have a full page. "

There was a short silence. 

"What does it cost?" Mr. Crewe demanded. 

"Sure, " said the caressing voice of the president, "whatever you like. "

"I'll send you a check for five dollars, and a picture, " said Mr. Crewe. 

The answer to this was a hearty laugh, which the telephone reproducedadmirably. The voice now lost a little of its caressing note and partookof a harder quality. 

"You're a splendid humorist, Mr. Crewe. Five dollars wouldn't pay for theplate and the paper. A gentleman like you could give us twenty-five, andnever know it was gone. You won't be wanting to stop in the Legislature, Mr. Crewe, and we remember our friends in Newcastle. "

"Very well, I'll see what I can do. Good-by, I've got an engagement, "said Mr. Crewe, and slammed down the telephone. He seated himself in hischair, and the pensive mood so characteristic (we are told) of statesmencame over him once more. 

While these and other conferences and duties too numerous to mention wereabsorbing Mr. Crewe, he was not too busy to bear in mind the pleasure ofthose around him who had not received such an abundance of the world'sblessings as he. The townspeople of Leith were about to bestow on himtheir greatest gift. What could he do to show his appreciation? Wrestlingwith this knotty problem, a brilliant idea occurred to him, --he wouldhave a garden-party: invite everybody in town, and admit them to thesanctities of Wedderburn; yes, even of Wedderburn house, that they mightbehold with their own eyes the carved ivory elephants and other contentsof glass cabinets which reeked of the Sunday afternoons of youth. Being aman of action, Mr. Pardriff was summoned at once from Leith and asked forhis lowest price on eight hundred and fifty invitations and a notice ofthe party in the Ripton Record. 

"Goin' to invite Democrats, too?" demanded Mr. Pardriff, glancing at thecheck-list. 

"Everybody, " said Mr. Crewe, with unparalleled generosity. "I won't drawany distinction between friends and enemies. They're all neighbours. "

"And some of 'em might, by accident, vote the Republican ticket, " Mr. Pardriff retorted, narrowing his eyes a little. 

Mr. Crewe evidently thought this a negligible suggestion, for he did notreply to it, but presently asked for the political news in Ripton. 

"Well, " said Mr. Pardriff, "you know they tried to get Austen Vane to runfor State senator, don't you?"

"Vane Why, he ain't a full-fledged lawyer yet. I've hired him in anunimportant case. Who asked him to run?"

"Young Tom Gaylord and a delegation. "

"He couldn't have got it, " said Mr. Crewe. 

"I don't know, " said Mr. Pardriff, "he might have given Billings a hustlefor the nomination. "

"You supported Billings, I noticed, " said Mr. Crewe. 

Mr. Pardriff winked an eye. 

"I'm not ready to walk the ties when I go to Newcastle, " he remarked, "and Nat ain't quite bankrupt yet. The Gaylords, " continued Mr. Pardriff, who always took the cynical view of a man of the world, "have had somerow with the Northeastern over lumber shipments. I understand they'regoin' to buck 'em for a franchise in the next Legislature, just to makeit lively. The Gaylords ain't exactly poverty-stricken, but they might aswell try to move Sawanec Mountain as the Northeastern. "

It was a fact that young Tom Gaylord had approached Austen Vane with a"delegation" to request him to be a candidate for the Republicannomination for the State senate in his district against the railroadcandidate and Austen's late opponent, the Honourable Nat Billings. It wasa fact also that Austen had invited the delegation to sit down, althoughthere were only two chairs, and that a wrestling match had ensued withyoung Tom, in the progress of which one chair had been broken. Young Tomthought it was time to fight the railroad, and perceived in Austen theelements of a rebel leader. Austen had undertaken to throw young Tom outof a front window, which was a large, old-fashioned one, --and afterHerculean efforts had actually got him on the ledge, when something inthe street caught his eye and made him desist abruptly. The something wasthe vision of a young woman in a brown linen suit seated in a runaboutand driving a horse almost as handsome as Pepper. 

When the delegation, after exhausting their mental and physical powers ofpersuasion, had at length taken their departure in disgust, Austen openedmechanically a letter which had very much the appearance of anadvertisement, and bearing a one-cent stamp. It announced that agarden-party would take place at Wedderburn, the home of the HonourableHumphrey Crewe, at a not very distant date, and the honour of thebearer's presence was requested. Refreshments would be served, and theRipton Band would dispense music. Below, in small print, were minutedirections where to enter, where to hitch your team, and where to go out. 

Austen was at a loss to know what fairy godmother had prompted Mr. Creweto send him an invitation, the case of the injured horse not havingadvanced with noticeable rapidity. Nevertheless, the prospect of thegarden-party dawned radiantly for him above what had hitherto been arather gloomy horizon. Since the afternoon he had driven Victoria to theHammonds' he had had daily debates with an imaginary man in his ownlikeness who, to the detriment of his reading of law, sat across histable and argued with him. The imaginary man was unprincipled, and had nodignity, but he had such influence over Austen Vane that he had inducedhim to drive twice within sight of Fairview gate, when Austen Vane hadturned round again. The imaginary man was for going to call on her andletting subsequent events take care of themselves; Austen Vane, had anuncomfortable quality of reducing a matter first of all to its simplestterms. He knew that Mr. Flint's views were as fixed, ineradicable, andunchangeable as an epitaph cut in a granite monument; he felt (as Mr. Flint had) that their first conversation had been but a forerunner of, astrife to come between them; and add to this the facts that Mr. Flint wasvery rich and Austen Vane poor, that Victoria's friends were not hisfriends, and that he had grave doubts that the interest she had evincedin him sprang from any other incentive than a desire to havecommunication with various types of humanity, his hesitation as toentering Mr. Flint's house was natural enough. 

It was of a piece with Mr. Crewe's good fortune of getting what he wantedthat the day of the garden-party was the best that September could do inthat country, which is to say that it was very beautiful. A pregnantstillness enwrapped the hills, a haze shot with gold dust, like thefilmiest of veils, softened the distant purple and the blue-black shadowsunder the pines. Austen awoke from his dream in this enchanted borderlandto find himself in a long line of wagons filled with people in theirSunday clothes, --the men in black, and the young women in white, with gaystreamers, wending their way through the rear-entrance drive ofWedderburn, where one of Mr. Crewe's sprucest employees was taking up theinvitation cards like tickets, --a precaution to prevent the rowdy elementfrom Ripton coming and eating up the refreshments. Austen obediently tiedPepper in a field, as he was directed, and made his way by a path throughthe woods towards the house, where the Ripton Band could be heard playingthe second air in the programme, "Don't you wish you'd Waited?"

For a really able account of that memorable entertainment see the RiptonRecord of that week, for we cannot hope to vie with Mr. Pardriff when hisheart is really in his work. How describe the noble figure of Mr. Creweas it burst upon Austen when he rounded the corner of the house? Clad ina rough-and-ready manner, with a Gladstone collar to indicate the newlyacquired statesmanship, and fairly radiating geniality, Mr. Crewe stoodat the foot of the steps while the guests made the circuit of thedriveway; and they carefully avoided, in obedience to a warning sign, thegrass circle in the centre. As man and wife confronted him, Mr. Crewegreeted them in hospitable but stentorian tones that rose above thestrains of "Don't you wish you'd Waited?" It was Mr. Ball who introducedhis townspeople to the great man who was to represent them. 

"How are you?" said Mr. Crewe, with his eyes on the geraniums. "Mr. AndMrs. Perley Wright, eh? Make yourselves at home. Everything's free--you'll find the refreshments on the back porch--just have an eye to thesigns posted round, that's all. " And Mr. And Mrs. Perley Wright, overwhelmed by such a welcome, would pass on into a back eddy ofneighbours, where they would stick, staring at a sign requesting themplease not to pick the flowers. 

"Can't somebody stir 'em up?" Mr. Crewe shouted in an interval when theband had stopped to gather strength for a new effort. "Can't somebodymove 'em round to see the cows and what's in the house and the automobileand the horses? Move around the driveway, please. It's so hot here youcan't breathe. Some of you wanted to see what was in the house. Now'syour chance. "

This graceful appeal had some temporary effect, but the congestion soonreturned, when a man of the hour appeared, a man whose genius scatteredthe groups and who did more to make the party a success than any singleindividual, --Mr. Hamilton Tooting, in a glorious white silk necktie withpurple flowers. 

"I'll handle 'em, Mr. Crewe, " he said; "a little brains'll start 'emgoin'. Come along here, Mr. Wright, and I'll show you the best cows thisside of the Hudson Riverall pedigreed prize winners. Hello, Aust, youtake hold and get the wimmen-folks interested in the cabinets. You knowwhere they are. "

"There's a person with some sense, " remarked Mrs. Pomfret, who had beenat a little distance among a group of summer-resident ladies and watchingthe affair with shining eyes. "I'll help. Come, Edith; come, Victoriawhere's Victoria?--and dear Mrs. Chillingham. We American women are sodeplorably lacking in this kind of experience. Alice, take some of thewomen into the garden. I'm going to interest that dear, benevolent manwho looks so helpless, and doing his best to have a good time. "

The dear, benevolent man chanced to be Mr. Job Braden, who was standingsomewhat apart with his hands in his pockets. He did not move as Mrs. Pomfret approached him, holding her glasses to her eyes. 

"How are you?" exclaimed that lady, extending a white-gloved hand with acordiality that astonished her friends. "It is so pleasant to see youhere, Mr. --Mr. --"

"How be you?" said Mr. Braden, taking her fingers in the gingerly mannerhe would have handled one of Mr. Crewe's priceless curios. The giraffeMr. Barnum had once brought to Ripton was not half as interesting as thisimmaculate and mysterious production of foreign dressmakers and Frenchmaids, but he refrained from betraying it. His eye rested on thelorgnette. 

"Near-sighted, be you?" he inquired, --a remark so unexpected that for themoment Mrs. Pomfret was deprived of speech. 

"I manage to see better with--with these, " she gasped, "when we get old--you know. "

"You hain't old, " said Mr. Braden, gallantly. "If you be, " he added, hiseye travelling up and down the Parisian curves, I wouldn't have suspectedit--not a mite. "

"I'm afraid you are given to flattery, Mr. --Mr. --" she replied hurriedly. "Whom have I the pleasure of speaking to?"

"Job Braden's my name, " he answered, "but you have the advantage of me. "

"How?" demanded the thoroughly bewildered Mrs. Pomfret. 

"I hain't heard your name, " he said. 

"Oh, I'm Mrs. Pomfret--a very old friend of Mr. Crewe's. Whenever he hashis friends with him, like this, I come over and help him. It is sodifficult for a bachelor to entertain, Mr. Braden. "

"Well, " said Mr. Braden, bending alarmingly near her ear, "there's oneway out of it. "

"What's that?" said Mrs. Pomfret. 

"Git married, " declared Mr. Braden. 

"How very clever you are, Mr. Braden! I wish poor dear Mr. Crewe wouldget married--a wife could take so many burdens off his shoulders. Youdon't know Mr. Crewe very well, do you?"

"Callate to--so so, " said Mr. Braden. 

Mrs. Pomfret was at sea again. 

"I mean, do you see him often?"

"Seen him once, " said Mr. Braden. "G-guess that's enough. "

"You're a shrewd judge of human nature, Mr. Braden, " she replied, tappinghim on the shoulder with the lorgnette, "but you can have no idea howgood he is--how unceasingly he works for others. He is not a man whogives much expression to his feelings, as no doubt you have discovered, but if you knew him as I do, you would realize how much affection he hasfor his country neighbours and how much he has their welfare at heart. "

"Loves 'em--does he--loves 'em?"

"He is like an English gentleman in his sense of responsibility, " saidMrs. Pomfret; "over there, you know, it is a part of a countrygentleman's duty to improve the condition of his--his neighbours. Andthen Mr. Crewe is so fond of his townspeople that he couldn't resistdoing this for them, " and she indicated with a sweep of her eyeglassesthe beatitude with which they were surrounded. 

"Wahn't no occasion to, " said Mr. Braden. 

"What!" cried Mrs. Pomfret, who had been walking on ice for some time. 

"This hain't England--is it? Hain't England?"

"No, " she admitted, "but--"

"Hain't England, " said Mr. Braden, and leaned forward until he was withina very few inches of her pearl ear-ring. "He'll be chose allright--d-don't fret--he'll be chose. "

"My dear Mr. Braden, I've no doubt of it--Mr. Crewe's so popular, " shecried, removing her ear-ring abruptly from the danger zone. "Do makeyourself at home, " she added, and retired from Mr. Braden's company atrifle disconcerted, --a new experience for Mrs. Pomfret. She wonderedwhether all country people were like Mr. Braden, but decided, afteranother experiment or two, that he was an original. More than once duringthe afternoon she caught sight of him, beaming upon the festivitiesaround him. But she did not renew the conversation. 

To Austen Vane, wandering about the grounds, Mr. Crewe's party presenteda sociological problem of no small interest. Mr. Crewe himself interestedhim, and he found himself speculating how far a man would go who chargedthe fastnesses of the politicians with a determination not to be deniedand a bank account to be reckoned with. Austen talked to many of theLeith farmers whom he had known from boyhood, thanks to his custom ofroaming the hills; they were for the most part honest men whoseoccupation in life was the first thought, and they were content to leavepolitics to Mr. Braden--that being his profession. To the mostintelligent of these Mr. Crewe's garden-party was merely the wanton whimof a millionaire. It was an open secret to them that Job Braden forreasons of his own had chosen Mr. Crewe to represent them, and they weremildly amused at the efforts of Mrs. Pomfret and her assistants to securevotes which were as certain as the sun's rising on the morrow. 

It was some time before Austen came upon the object of his search--thoughscarce admitting to himself that it had an object. In greeting him, afterinquiring about his railroad case, Mr. Crewe had indicated with a wave ofhis hand the general direction of the refreshments; but it was not untilAusten had tried in all other quarters that he made his way towards theporch where the lemonade and cake and sandwiches were. It was, after all, the most popular place, though to his mind the refreshments had little todo with its popularity. From the outskirts of the crowd he perceivedVictoria presiding over the punchbowl that held the lemonade. He liked tothink of her as Victoria; the name had no familiarity for him, but seemedrather to enhance the unattainable quality of her. 

Surrounding Victoria were several clean-looking, freckled, and tannedyoung men of undergraduate age wearing straw hats with coloured ribbons, who showed every eagerness to obey and even anticipate the orders she didnot hesitate to give them. Her eye seemed continually on the alert forthose of Mr. Crewe's guests who were too bashful to come forward, anddiscerning them she would send one of her lieutenants forward withsupplies. Sometimes she would go herself to the older people; and once, perceiving a tired woman holding a baby (so many brought babies, beingunable to leave them), Victoria impulsively left her post and seized thewoman by the arm. 

"Do come and sit down, " she cried; "there's a chair beside me. And oh, what a nice baby! Won't you let me hold him?"

"Why, yes, ma'am, " said the woman, looking up at Victoria with grateful, patient eyes, and then with awe at what seemed to her the pricelessembroidery on Victoria's waist, "won't he spoil your dress?"

"Bless him, no, " said Victoria, poking her finger into a dimple--for hewas smiling at her. "What if he does?" and forthwith she seized him inher arms and bore him to the porch, amidst the laughter of those whobeheld her, and sat him down on her knee in front of the lemonade bowl, the tired mother beside her. "Will a little lemonade hurt him? Just avery, very little, you know?"

"Why, no, ma'am, " said the mother. 

"And just a teeny bit of cake, " begged Victoria, daintily breaking off apiece, while the baby gurgled and snatched for it. "Do tell me how old heis, and how many more you have. "

"He's eleven months on the twenty-seventh, " said the mother, "and I'vegot four more. " She sighed, her eyes wandering back to the embroidery. "What between them and the housework and the butter makin', it hain'teasy. Be you married?"

"No, " said Victoria, laughing and blushing a little. 

"You'll make a good wife for somebody, " said the woman. "I hope you'llget a good man. "

"I hope so, too, " said Victoria, blushing still deeper amidst thelaughter, "but there doesn't seem to be much chance of it, and good menare very scarce. "

"I guess you're right, " said the mother, soberly. "Not but what my man'sgood enough, but he don't seem to get along, somehow. The farm's woreout, and the mortgage comes around so regular. "

"Where do you live?" asked Victoria, suddenly growing serious. 

"Fitch's place. 'Tain't very far from the Four Corners, on the Avalonroad. "

"And you are Mrs. Fitch?"

"Callate to be, " said the mother. "If it ain't askin' too much, I'd liketo know your name. "

"I'm Victoria Flint. I live not very far from the Four Corners--that is, about eight miles. May I come over and see you sometime?"

Although Victoria said this very simply, the mother's eyes widened untilone might almost have said they expressed a kind of terror. 

"Land sakes alive, be you Mr. Flint's daughter? I might have knowed itfrom the lace--that dress must have cost a fortune. But I didn't think tofind you so common. "

Victoria did not smile. She had heard the word "common" so used before, and knew that it was meant for a compliment, and she turned to the womanwith a very expressive light in her eyes. 

"I will come to see you--this very week, " she said. And just then herglance, seemingly drawn in a certain direction, met that of a tall youngman which had been fixed upon her during the whole of this scene. Shecoloured again, abruptly handed the baby back to his mother, and rose. 

"I'm neglecting all these people, " she said, "but do sit there and restyourself and--have some more lemonade. "

She bowed to Austen, and smiled a little as she filled the glasses, butshe did not beckon him. She gave no further sign of her knowledge of hispresence until he stood beside her--and then she looked up at him. 

"I have been looking for you, Miss Flint, " he said. 

"I suppose a man would never think of trying the obvious places first, "she replied. "Hastings, don't you see that poor old woman over there? Shelooks so thirsty--give her this. "

The boy addressed, with a glance at Austen, did as he was bid, and shesent off a second on another errand. 

"Let me help, " said Austen, seizing the cake; and being seized at thesame time, by an unusual and inexplicable tremor of shyness, thrust it atthe baby. 

"Oh, he can't have anymore; do you want to kill him?" cried Victoria, seizing the plate, and adding mischievously, "I don't believe you're ofvery much use--after all!"

"Then it's time I learned, " said Austen. "Here's Mr. Jenney. I'm surehe'll have a piece. "

"Well, " said Mr. Jenney, the same Mr. Jenney of the apple orchard, butholding out a horny hand with unmistakable warmth, "how be you, Austen?"Looking about him, Mr. Jenney put his hand to his mouth, and added, "Didn't expect to see you trailin' on to this here kite. " He took a pieceof cake between his thumb and forefinger and glanced bashfully atVictoria. 

"Have some lemonade, Mr. Jenney? Do, " she urged. 

"Well, I don't care if I do, " he said, "just a little mite. " He did notattempt to stop her as she filled the glass to the brim, but continued toregard her with a mixture of curiosity and admiration. "Seen you nursin'the baby and makin' folks at home. Guess you have the knack of itbetter'n some I could mention. "

This was such a palpable stroke at their host that Victoria laughed, andmade haste to turn the subject from herself. 

"Mr. Vane seems to be an old friend of yours, " she said. 

"Why, " said Mr. Jenney, laying his hand on Austen's shoulder, "I callatehe is. Austen's broke in more'n one of my colts afore he went West andshot that feller. He's as good a judge of horse-flesh as any man in thispart of the State. Hear Tom Gaylord and the boys wanted him to be Statesenator. "

"Why didn't you accept, Mr. Vane?"

"Because I don't think the boys could have elected me, " answered Austen, laughing. 

"He's as popular a man as there is in the county, " declared Mr. Jenney. He was a mite wild as a boy, but sence he's sobered down and won thatcase against the railrud, he could get any office he'd a mind to. He'salways adoin' little things for folks, Austen is. "

"Did--did that case against the railroad make him so popular?" askedVictoria, glancing at Austen's broad back--for he had made his escapewith the cake. 

"I guess it helped considerable, " Mr. Jenney admitted. 

"Why?" asked Victoria. 

"Well, it was a fearless thing to do--plumb against his own interestswith old Hilary Vane. Austen's a bright lawyer, and I have heard it saidhe was in line for his father's place as counsel. "

"Do--do people dislike the railroad?"

Mr. Jenney rubbed his beard thoughtfully. He began to wonder who thisyoung woman was, and a racial caution seized him. 

"Well, " he said, "folks has an idea the railrud runs this State to suitthemselves. I guess they hain't far wrong. I've be'n to the Legislatureand seen some signs of it. Why, Hilary Vane himself has charge of themost considerable part of the politics. Who be you?" Mr. Jenney demandedsuddenly. 

"I'm Victoria Flint, " said Victoria. 

"Godfrey!" exclaimed Mr. Jenney, "you don't say so! I might have knownit--seen you on the rud more than once. But I don't know all you richfolks apart. Wouldn't have spoke so frank if I'd knowed who you was. "

"I'm glad you did, Mr. Jenney, " she answered. "I wanted to know whatpeople think. "

"Well, it's almighty complicated, " said Mr. Jenney, shaking his head. "Idon't know by rights what to think. As long as I've said what I have, I'll say this: that the politicians is all for the railrud, and I hain'tgot a mite of use for the politicians. I'll vote for a feller like AustenVane every time, if he'll run, and I know other folks that will. "

After Mr. Jenney had left her, Victoria stood motionless, gazing off intothe haze, until she was startled by the voice of Hastings Weare besideher. 

"Say, Victoria, who is that man?" he asked. 

"What man?"

Hastings nodded towards Austen, who, with a cake basket in his hand, stood chatting with a group of country people on the edge of the porch. 

"Oh, that man!" said Victoria. "His name's Austen Vane, and he's a lawyerin Ripton. "

"All I can say is, " replied Hastings, with a light in his face, "he's oneI'd like to tie to. I'll bet he could whip any four men you could pickout. "

Considering that Hastings had himself proposed--although in a very mildform--more than once to Victoria, this was generous. 

"I daresay he could, " she agreed absently. 

"It isn't only the way he's built, " persisted Hastings, "he looks as ifhe were going to be somebody some day. Introduce me to him, will you?"

"Certainly, " said Victoria. "Mr. Vane, " she called, "I want to introducean admirer, Mr. Hastings Weare. "

"I just wanted to know you, " said Hastings, reddening, "and Victoria--Imean Miss Flint--said she'd introduce me. "

"I'm much obliged to her, " said Austen, smiling. 

"Are you in politics?" asked Hastings. 

"I'm afraid not, " answered Austen, with a glance at Victoria. 

"You're not helping Humphrey Crewe, are you?"

"No, " said Austen, and added with an illuminating smile, "Mr. Crewedoesn't need any help. "

"I'm glad you're not, " exclaimed the downright Hastings, with palpablerelief in his voice that an idol had not been shattered. "I thinkHumphrey's a fakir, and all this sort of thing tommyrot. He wouldn't getmy vote by giving me lemonade and cake and letting me look at his cows. If you ever run for office, I'd like to cast it for you. My father isonly a summer resident, but since he has gone out of business he stayshere till Christmas, and I'll be twenty-one in a year. "

Austen had ceased to smile; he was looking into the boy's eyes with thatserious expression which men and women found irresistible. 

"Thank you, Mr. Weare, " he said simply. 

Hastings was suddenly overcome with the shyness of youth. He held out hishand, and said, "I'm awfully glad to have met you, " and fled. 

Victoria, who had looked on with a curious mixture of feelings, turned toAusten. 

"That was a real tribute, " she said. "Is this the way you affecteverybody whom you meet?"

They were standing almost alone. The sun was nearing the western hillsbeyond the river, and people had for some time been wending their waytowards the field where the horses were tied. He did not answer herquestion, but asked one instead. 

"Will you let me drive you home?"

"Do you think you deserve to, after the shameful manner in which you havebehaved?"

"I'm quite sure that I don't deserve to, " he answered, still looking downat her. 

"If you did deserve to, being a woman, I probably shouldn't let you, "said Victoria, flashing a look upwards; "as it is, you may. "

His face lighted, but she halted in the grass, with her hands behind her, and stared at him with a puzzled expression. 

"I'm sure you're a dangerous man, " she declared. "First you take in poorlittle Hastings, and now you're trying to take me in. "

"Then I wish I were still more dangerous, " he laughed, "for apparently Ihaven't succeeded. "

"I want to talk to you seriously, " said Victoria; "that is the onlyreason I'm permitting you to drive me home. "

"I am devoutly thankful for the reason then, " he said, --"my horse is tiedin the field. "

"And aren't you going to say good-by to your host and hostess?"

"Hostess?" he repeated, puzzled. 

"Hostesses, " she corrected herself, "Mrs. Pomfret and Alice. I thoughtyou had eyes in your head, " she added, with a fleeting glance at them. 

"Is Crewe engaged to Miss Pomfret?" he asked. 

"Are all men simpletons?" said Victoria. "He doesn't know it yet, but heis. "

"I think I'd know it, if I were, " said Austen, with an emphasis that madeher laugh. 

"Sometimes fish don't know they're in a net until--until the morningafter, " said Victoria. "That has a horribly dissipated sound--hasn't it?I know to a moral certainty that Mr. Crewe will eventually lead MissPomfret away from the altar. At present, " she could not refrain fromadding, "he thinks he's in love with some one else. "

"Who?"

"It doesn't matter, " she replied. "Humphrey's perfectly happy, because hebelieves most women are in love with him, and he's making up his mind inthat magnificent, thorough way of his whether she is worthy to be endowedwith his heart and hand, his cows, and all his stocks and bonds. Hedoesn't know he's going to marry Alice. It almost makes one a Calvinist, doesn't it. He's predestined, but perfectly happy. "

"Who is he in love with?" demanded Austen, ungrammatically. 

"I'm going to say good-by to him. I'll meet you in the field, if youdon't care to come. It's only manners, after all, although the lemonade'sall gone and I haven't had a drop. "

"I'll go along too, " he said. 

"Aren't you afraid of Mrs. Pomfret?"

"Not a bit!"

"I am, " said Victoria, "but I think you'd better come just the same. "

Around the corner of the house they found them, --Mr. Crewe urging thedeparting guests to remain, and not to be bashful in the future aboutcalling. 

"We don't always have lemonade and cake, " he was saying, "but you can besure of a welcome, just the same. Good-by, Vane, glad you came. Did theyshow you through the stables? Did you see the mate to the horse I lost?Beauty, isn't he? Stir 'em up and get the money. I guess we won't seemuch of each other politically. You're anti-railroad. I don't believethat tack'll work--we can't get along without corporations, you know. Youought to talk to Flint. I'll give you a letter of introduction to him. Idon't know what I'd have done without that man Tooting in your father'soffice. He's a wasted genius in Ripton. What? Good-by, you'll find yourwagon, I guess. Well, Victoria, where have you been keeping yourself?I've been so busy I haven't had time to look for you. You're going tostay to dinner, and Hastings, and all the people who have helped. "

"No, I'm not, " answered Victoria, with a glance at Austen, before whomthis announcement was so delicately made, "I'm going home. "

"But when am I to see you?" cried Mr. Crewe, as near genuine alarm as heever got. You never let me see you. I was going to drive you home in themotor by moonlight. "

"We all know that you're the most original person, Victoria, " said Mrs. Pomfret, "full of whims and strange fancies, " she added, with the onlybrief look at Austen she had deigned to bestow on him. "It never pays tocount on you for twenty-four hours. I suppose you're off on another wildexpedition. "

"I think I've earned the right to it, " said Victoria;--I've pouredlemonade for Humphrey's constituents the whole afternoon. And besides, Inever said I'd stay for dinner. I'm going home. Father's leaving forCalifornia in the morning. "

"He'd better stay at home and look after her, " Mrs. Pomfret remarked, when Victoria was out of hearing. 

Since Mrs. Harry Haynes ran off, one can never tell what a woman will do. It wouldn't surprise me a bit if Victoria eloped with a handsome nobodylike that. Of course he's after her money, but he wouldn't get it, not ifI know Augustus Flint. "

"Is he handsome?" said Mr. Crewe, as though the idea were a new one. "Great Scott, I don't believe she gives him a thought. She's only goingas far as the field with him. She insisted on leaving her horse thereinstead of putting him in the stable. "

"Catch Alice going as far as the field with him, " said Mrs. Pomfret, "butI've done my duty. It's none of my affair. "

In the meantime Austen and Victoria had walked on some distance insilence. 

"I have an idea with whom Mr. Crewe is in love, " he said at length. 

"So have I, " replied Victoria, promptly. "Humphrey's in love withhimself. All he desires in a wife--if he desires one--is an inanimate andaccommodating looking-glass, in whom he may see what he conceives to behis own image daily. James, you may take the mare home. I'm going todrive with Mr. Vane. "

She stroked Pepper's nose while Austen undid the hitch-rope from aroundhis neck. 

"You and I are getting to be friends, aren't we, Pepper?" she asked, asthe horse, with quivering nostrils, thrust his head into her hand. Thenshe sprang lightly into the buggy by Austen's side. The manner of theseacts and the generous courage with which she defied opinion appealed tohim so strongly that his heart was beating faster than Pepper'shoof-beats on the turf of the pasture. 

"You are very good to come with me, " he said gravely, when they hadreached the road; "perhaps I ought not to have asked you. "

"Why?" she asked, with one of her direct looks. 

"It was undoubtedly selfish, " he said, and added, more lightly, "I don'twish to put you into Mrs. Pomfret's bad graces. "

Victoria laughed. 

"She thought it her duty to tell father the time you drove me to theHammonds'. She said I asked you to do it. "

"What did he say?" Austen inquired, looking straight ahead of him. 

"He didn't say much, " she answered. "Father never does. I think he knowsthat I am to be trusted. "

"Even with me?" he asked quizzically, but with a deeper significance. 

"I don't think he realizes how dangerous you are, " she replied, avoidingthe issue. "The last time I saw you, you were actually trying to throw afat man out of your window. What a violent life you lead, Mr. Vane. Ihope you haven't shot any more people--"

"I saw you, " he said. 

"Is that the way you spend your time in office hours, --throwing peopleout of the windows?"

"It was only Tom Gaylord. "

"He's the man Mr. Jenney said wanted you to be a senator, isn't he?" sheasked. 

"You have a good memory, " he answered her. "Yes. That's the reason Itried to throw him out of the window. "

"Why didn't you be a senator?" she asked abruptly. "I always think of youin public life. Why waste your opportunities?"

"I'm not at all sure that was an opportunity. It was only some of Tom'snonsense. I should have had all the politicians in the district againstme. "

"But you aren't the kind of man who would care about the politicians, surely. If Humphrey Crewe can get elected by the people, I should thinkyou might. "

"I can't afford to give garden-parties and buy lemonade, " said Austen, and they both laughed. He did not think it worth while mentioning Mr. Braden. 

"Sometimes I think you haven't a particle of ambition, " she said. "I likemen with ambition. "

"I shall try to cultivate it, " said Austen. 

"You seem to be popular enough. "

"Most worthless people are popular, because they don't tread on anybody'stoes. "

"Worthless people don't take up poor people's suits, and win them, " shesaid. "I saw Zeb Meader the other day, and he said you could be Presidentof the United States. "

"Zeb meant that I was eligible--having been born in this country, " saidAusten. "But where did you see him?"

"I--I went to see him. "

"All the way to Mercer?"

"It isn't so far in an automobile, " she replied, as though in excuse, andadded, still more lamely, "Zeb and I became great friends, you know, inthe hospital. "

He did not answer, but wondered the more at the simplicity and kindnessin one brought up as she had been which prompted her to take the troubleto see the humblest of her friends: nay, to take the trouble to havehumble friends. 

The road wound along a ridge, and at intervals was spread before them thefull glory of the September sunset, --the mountains of the west inblue-black silhouette against the saffron sky, the myriad dappled clouds, the crimson fading from the still reaches of the river, and thewine-colour from the eastern hills. Both were silent under the spell, buta yearning arose within him when he glanced at the sunset glow on herface: would sunsets hereafter bring sadness?

His thoughts ran riot as the light faded in the west. Hers were notrevealed. And the silence between them seemed gradually to grow into apact, to become a subtler and more intimate element than speech. A fainttang of autumn smoke was in the air, a white mist crept along the runningwaters, a silver moon like a new-stamped coin rode triumphant in the sky, impatient to proclaim her glory; and the shadows under the ghost-likesentinel trees in the pastures grew blacker. At last Victoria looked athim. 

"You are the only man I know who doesn't insist on talking, " she said. There are times when--"

"When there is nothing to say, " he suggested. 

She laughed softly. He tried to remember the sound of it afterwards, whenhe rehearsed this phase of the conversation, but couldn't. 

"It's because you like the hills, isn't it?" she asked. "You seem such anout-of-door person, and Mr. Jenney said you were always wandering aboutthe country-side. "

"Mr. Jenney also made other reflections about my youth, " said Austen. 

She laughed again, acquiescing in his humour, secretly thankful not tofind him sentimental. 

"Mr. Jenney said something else that--that I wanted to ask you about, "she went on, breathing more deeply. "It was about the railroad. "

"I am afraid you have not come to an authority, " he replied. 

"You said the politicians would be against you if you tried to become aState senator. Do you believe that the politicians are owned by therailroad?"

"Has Jenney been putting such things into your head?"

"Not only Mr. Jenney, but--I have heard other people say that. AndHumphrey Crewe said that you hadn't a chance politically, because you hadopposed the railroad and had gone against your own interests. "

Austen was amazed at this new exhibition of courage on her part, thoughhe was sorely pressed. 

"Humphrey Crewe isn't much of an authority, either, " he said briefly. 

"Then you won't tell me?" said Victoria. "Oh, Mr. Vane, " she cried, withsudden vehemence, "if such things are going on here, I'm sure my fatherdoesn't know about them. This is only one State, and the railroad runsthrough so many. He can't know everything, and I have heard him say thathe wasn't responsible for what the politicians did in his name. If theyare bad, why don't you go to him and tell him so? I'm sure he'd listen toyou. "

"I'm sure he'd think me a presumptuous idiot, " said Austen. "Politiciansare not idealists anywhere--the very word has become a term of reproach. Undoubtedly your father desires to set things right as much as any oneelse--probably more than any one. "

"Oh, I know he does, " exclaimed Victoria. 

"If politics are not all that they should be, " he went on, somewhatgrimly, with an unpleasant feeling of hypocrisy, "we must remember thatthey are nobody's fault in particular, and can't be set right in aninstant by any one man, no matter how powerful. "

She turned her face to him gratefully, but he did not meet her look. Theywere on the driveway of Fairview. 

"I suppose you think me very silly for asking such questions, " she said. 

"No, " he answered gravely, "but politics are so intricate a subject thatthey are often not understood by those who are in the midst of them. Iadmire--I think it is very fine in you to want to know. "

"You are not one of the men who would not wish a woman to know, are you?"

"No, " he said, "no, I'm not. "

The note of pain in his voice surprised and troubled her. They werealmost in sight of the house. 

"I asked you to come to Fairview, " she said, assuming a lightness oftone, "and you never appeared. I thought it was horrid of you to forget, after we'd been such friends. "

"I didn't forget, " replied Austen. 

"Then you didn't want to come. "

He looked into her eyes, and she dropped them. 

"You will have to be the best judge of that, " he said. 

"But what am I to think?" she persisted. 

"Think the best of me you can, " he answered, as they drew up on thegravel before the open door of Fairview house. A man was standing in themoonlight on the porch. 

"Is that you, Victoria?"

"Yes, father. "

"I was getting worried, " said Mr. Flint, coming down on the driveway. 

"I'm all right, " she said, leaping out of the buggy, "Mr. Vane brought mehome. "

"How are you, Hilary?" said Mr. Flint. 

"I'm Austen Vane, Mr. Flint, " said Austen. 

"How are you?" said Mr. Flint, as curtly as the barest politenessallowed. "What was the matter with your own horse, Victoria?"

"Nothing, " she replied, after an instant's pause. Austen wondered manytimes whether her lips had trembled. "Mr. Vane asked me to drive withhim, and I came. Won't--won't you come in, Mr. Vane?"

"No, thanks, " said Austen, "I'm afraid I have to go back to Ripton. "

"Good-by, and thank you, " she said, and gave him her hand. As he pressedit, he thought he felt the slightest pressure in return, and then shefled up the steps. As he drove away, he turned once to look at the greathouse, with its shades closely drawn, as it stood amidst its setting ofshrubbery silent under the moon. 

An hour later he sat in Hanover Street before the supper Euphrasia hadsaved for him. But though he tried nobly, his heart was not in therelation, for her benefit, of Mr. Crewe's garden-party. 

CHAPTER IX

Mr. CREWE ASSAULTS THE CAPITAL

Those portions of the biographies of great men which deal with the smallbeginnings of careers are always eagerly devoured, and for this reasonthe humble entry of Mr. Crewe into politics may be of interest. Greatrevolutions have had their origins in back cellars; great builders ofrailroads have begun life with packs on their shoulders, trudging overthe wilderness which they were to traverse in after years in privatecars. The history of Napoleon Bonaparte has not a Sunday-school moral, but we can trace therein the results of industry after the future emperorgot started. Industry, and the motto "nil desperandum" lived up to, andthe watchword "thorough, " and a torch of unsuspected genius, and"l'audace, toujours l'audace, " and a man may go far in life. 

Mr. Humphrey Crewe possessed, as may have been surmised, a dash of allthese gifts. For a summary of his character one would not have used thephrase (as a contemporary of his remarked) of "a shrinking violet. " Thephrase, after all, would have fitted very few great men; genius is sureof itself, and seeks its peers. 

The State capital is an old and beautiful and somewhat conservative town. Life there has its joys and sorrows and passions, its ambitions, andheart-burnings, to be sure; a most absorbing novel could be written aboutit, and the author need not go beyond the city limits or approach thestate-house or the Pelican Hotel. The casual visitor in that capitalleaves it with a sense of peace, the echo of church bells in his ear, and(if in winter) the impression of dazzling snow. Comedies do notnecessarily require a wide stage, nor tragedies an amphitheatre for theirenactment. 

No casual visitor, for instance, would have suspected from the faces orremarks of the inhabitants whom he chanced to meet that there wasexcitement in the capital over the prospective arrival of Mr. HumphreyCrewe for the legislative session that winter. Legislative sessions, beit known, no longer took place in the summer, a great relief to Mr. Creweand to farmers in general, who wished to be at home in haying time. 

The capital abounded in comfortable homes and boasted not a dwellings oflarger pretensions. Chief among these was the Duncan house--still socalled, although Mr. Duncan, who built it, had been dead these fifteenyears, and his daughter and heiress, Janet, had married an ItalianMarquis and lived in a Roman palace, rehabilitated by the Duncan money. Mr. Duncan, it may be recalled by some readers of "Coniston, " had been anotable man in his day, who had married the heiress of the State, and waspresident of the Central Railroad, now absorbed in the UnitedNortheastern. The house was a great square of brick, with a wide cornice, surrounded by a shaded lawn; solidly built, in the fashion of the dayswhen rich people stayed at home, with a conservatory and a library thathad once been Mr. Duncan's pride. The Marchesa cared very little aboutthe library, or about the house, for that matter; a great aunt and uncle, spinster and bachelor, were living in it that winter, and they vacatedfor Mr. Crewe. He travelled to the capital on the legislative pass theNortheastern Railroads had so kindly given him, and brought down hishorses and his secretary and servants from Leith a few days before thefirst of January, when the session was to open, and laid out his billsfor the betterment of the State on that library table where Mr. Duncanhad lovingly thumbed his folios. Mr. Crewe, with characteristicpromptitude, set his secretary to work to make a list of the persons ofinfluence in the town, preparatory to a series of dinner-parties; hedropped into the office of Mr. Ridout, the counsel of the Northeasternand of the Winona Corporation in the capital, to pay his respects as aman of affairs, and incidentally to leave copies of his bills for theimprovement of the State. Mr. Ridout was politely interested, andpromised to read the bills, and agreed that they ought to pass. 

Mr. Crewe also examined the Pelican Hotel, so soon to be a hive, andstood between the snow-banks in the capital park contemplating the statueof the great statesman there, and repeating to himself the quotationinscribed beneath. "The People's Government, made for the People, made bythe People, and answerable to the People. " And he wondered, idly, --forthe day was not cold, --how he would look upon a pedestal with theGladstone collar and the rough woollen coat that would lend themselves soreadily to reproduction in marble. Stranger things had happened, andgrateful States had been known to reward benefactors. 

At length comes the gala night of nights, --the last of the old year, --andthe assembling of the five hundred legislators and of the army that iswont to attend them. The afternoon trains, steaming hot, are crowded tothe doors, the station a scene of animation, and Main Street, dazzling insnow, is alive with a stream of men, with eddies here and there at thecurbs and in the entries. What handshaking, and looking over of newfaces, and walking round and round! What sightseeing by the countrymembers and their wives who have come to attend the inauguration of thenew governor, the Honourable Asa P. Gray! There he is, with the whiskersand the tall hat and the comfortable face, which wears already a look ofgubernatorial dignity and power. He stands for a moment in the lobby ofthe Pelican Hotel, --thronged now to suffocation, --to shake hands geniallywith new friends, who are led up by old friends with two fingers on theelbow. The old friends crack jokes and whisper in the ear of thegovernor-to-be, who presently goes upstairs, accompanied by theHonourable Hilary Vane, to the bridal suite, which is reserved for him, and which has fire-proof carpet on the floor. The Honourable Hilary has aroom next door, connecting with the new governor's by folding doors, butthis fact is not generally known to country members. Only old timers, like Bijah Bixby and Job Braden, know that the Honourable Hilary's roomcorresponds to one which in the old Pelican was called the Throne Room, Number Seven, where Jethro Bass sat in the old days and watchedunceasingly the groups in the street from the window. 

But Jethro Bass has been dead these twenty years, and his lieutenantsshorn of power. An empire has arisen out of the ashes of the ancientkingdoms. Bijah and Job are old, all-powerful still in Clovelly andLeith--influential still in their own estimations; still kicking up theirheels behind, still stuttering and whispering into ears, still "goingalong by when they are talking sly. " But there are no guerrillas now, nocondottieri who can be hired: the empire has a paid and standing army, asan empire should. The North Country chiefs, so powerful in the clanwarfare of bygone days, are generals now, --chiefs of staff. Thecaptain-general, with a minute piece of Honey Dew under his tongue, sitsin Number Seven. A new Number Seven, --with electric lights and a bathroomand a brass bed. Tempora mutantur. There is an empire and a feudalsystem, did one but know it. The clans are part of the empire, and eachchief is responsible for his clan--did one but know it. One doesn't knowit. 

The Honourable Brush Bascom, Duke of Putnam, member of the House, hasarrived unostentatiously--as is his custom--and is seated in his ownheadquarters, number ten (with a bathroom). Number nine belongs from yearto year to Mr. Manning, division superintendent of that part of theNortheastern which was the old Central, --a thin gentleman withside-whiskers. He loves life in the capital so much that he takes hisvacations there in the winter, --during the sessions of the Legislature, --presumably because it is gay. There are other rooms, higher up, ofimportant men, to be sure, but to enter which it is not so much of anhonour. The Honourable Bill Fleming, postmaster of Brampton in Truro(Ephraim Prescott being long since dead and Brampton a large place now), has his vacation during the session in room thirty-six (no bathroom); andthe Honourable Elisha Jane, Earl of Haines County in the North Country, and United States consul somewhere, is home on his annual vacation inroom fifty-nine (no bath). Senator Whitredge has a room, and SenatorGreen, and Congressmen Eldridge and Fairplay (no baths, and onlytemporary). 

The five hundred who during the next three months are to register thelaws find quarters as best they can. Not all of them are as luxurious asMr. Crewe in the Duncan house, or the Honourable Brush Bascom in numberten of the Pelican, the rent of either of which would swallow thelegislative salary in no time. The Honourable Nat Billings, senator fromthe Putnam County district, is comfortably installed, to be sure. Bygradual and unexplained degrees, the constitution of the State has beenchanged until there are only twenty senators. Noble five hundred!Steadfast twenty!

A careful perusal of the biographies of great men of the dynamic typeleads one to the conclusion that much of their success is due to anassiduous improvement of every opportunity, --and Mr. Humphrey Crewecertainly possessed this quality, also. He is in the Pelican Hotel thisevening, meeting the men that count. Mr. Job Braden, who had come downwith the idea that he might be of use in introducing the new member fromLeith to the notables, was met by this remark:--"You can't introduce meto any of 'em--they all know who I am. Just point any of 'em out youthink I ought to know, and I'll go up and talk to 'em. What? Come up tomy house after a while and smoke a cigar. The Duncan house, you know--thebig one with the conservatory. "

Mr. Crewe was right--they all knew him. The Leith millionaire, the summerresident, was a new factor in politics, and the rumours of the size ofhis fortune had reached a high-water mark in the Pelican Hotel thatevening. Pushing through the crowd in the corridor outside the bridalsuite waiting to shake hands with the new governor, Mr. Crewe gained anentrance in no time, and did not hesitate to interrupt the somewhatprotracted felicitations of an Irish member of the Newcastle delegation. 

"How are you, Governor?" he said, with the bonhomie of a man of theworld. "I'm Humphrey Crewe, from Leith. You got a letter from me, didn'tyou, congratulating you upon your election? We didn't do badly for you upthere. What?"

"How do you do, Mr. Crewe?" said Mr. Gray, with dignified hospitality, while their fingers slid over each other's; "I'm glad to welcome youhere. I've noticed the interest you've taken in the State, and the numberof ahem--very useful societies to which you belong. "

"Good, " said Mr. Crewe, "I do what I can. I just dropped in to shake yourhand, and to say that I hope we'll pull together. "

The governor lifted his eyebrows a little. 

"Why, I hope so, I'm sere, Mr. Crewe, " said he. 

"I've looked over the policy of the State for the last twenty years inregard to public improvements and the introduction of modern methods asconcerns husbandry, and I find it deplorable. You and I, Governor, livein a progressive age, and we can't afford not to see something done. What? It is my desire to do what I can to help make your administration anotable advance upon those of your predecessors. "

"Why--I greatly appreciate it, Mr. Crewe, " said Mr. Gray. 

"I'm sure you do. I've looked over your record, and I find you've hadexperience in State affairs, and that you are a successful andconservative business man. That is the type we want--eh? Business men. You've read over the bills I sent you by registered mail?"

"Ahem, " said Mr. Gray, "I've been a good deal occupied since electionday, Mr. Crewe. "

"Read 'em, " said Mr. Crewe, "and I'll call in on you at the state-houseday after to-morrow at five o'clock promptly. We'll discuss 'em, Governor, and if, by the light of your legislative experience, you haveany suggestions to make, I shall be glad to hear 'em. Before putting thebills in their final shape I've taken the trouble to go over them with myfriend, Mr. Flint--our mutual friend, let us say. "

"I've had the pleasure of meeting Mr. Flint, " said Mr. Gray. "I--ahem--can't say that I know him intimately. "

Mr. Crewe looked at Mr. Gray in a manner which plainly indicated that hewas not an infant. 

"My relations with Mr. Flint and the Northeastern have been verypleasant, " said Mr. Crewe. "I may say that I am somewhat of a practicalrailroad and business man myself. "

"We need such men, " said Mr. Gray. "Why, how do you do, Cary? How are theboys up in Wheeler?"

"Well, good-by, Governor. See you day after to-morrow at five precisely, "said Mr. Crewe. 

The next official call of Mr. Crewe was on the Speaker-to-be, Mr. Doby ofHale (for such matters are cut and dried), but any amount of pounding onMr. Doby's door (number seventy-five) brought no response. Other ruralmembers besides Mr. Crewe came and pounded on that door, and went awayagain; but Mr. Job Braden suddenly appeared from another part of thecorridor, smiling benignly, and apparently not resenting the refusal ofhis previous offers of help. 

"W--want the Speaker?" he inquired. 

Mr. Crewe acknowledged that he did. 

"Ed only sleeps there, " said Mr. Braden. "Guess you'll find him in theRailroad-Room. "

"Railroad Room?"

"Hilary Vane's, Number Seven. " Mr. Braden took hold of the lapel of hisfellow-townsman's coat. "Callated you didn't know it all, " he said;"that's the reason I come down--so's to help you some. "

Mr. Crewe, although he was not wont to take a second place, followed Mr. Braden down the stairs to the door next to the governor's, where hepushed ahead of his guide, through the group about the doorway, --none ofwhom, however, were attempting to enter. They stared in some surprise atMr. Crewe as he flung open the door without knocking, and slammed itbehind him in Mr. Braden's face. But the bewilderment caused by this actof those without was as nothing to the astonishment of those within--hadMr. Crewe but known it. An oil painting of the prominent men gatheredabout the marble-topped table in the centre of the room, with an outlinekey beneath it, would have been an appropriate work of art to hang in thestate-house, as emblematic of the statesmanship of the past twenty years. The Honourable Hilary Vane sat at one end in a padded chair; Mr. Manning, the division superintendent, startled out of a meditation, was upright onthe end of the bed; Mr. Ridout, the Northeastern's capital lawyer, wasfiguring at the other end of the table; the Honourable Brush Bascom wasbending over a wide, sad-faced gentleman of some two hundred and fiftypounds who sat at the centre in his shirt-sleeves, poring over numeroussheets in front of him which were covered with names of the five hundred. This gentleman was the Honourable Edward Doby of Hale, who, with the kindassistance of the other gentlemen above-named, was in this secluded spotmaking up a list of his committees, undisturbed by eager country members. At Mr. Crewe's entrance Mr. Bascom, with great presence of mind, laiddown his hat over the principal list, while Mr. Ridout, taking the hint, put the Revised Statutes on the other. There was a short silence; and theSpeaker-to-be, whose pencil had been knocked out of his hand; recoveredhimself sufficiently to relight an extremely frayed cigar. 

Not that Mr. Crewe was in the least abashed. He chose this opportunity tomake a survey of the situation, nodded to Mr. Ridout, and walked up tothe padded armchair. 

"How are you, Mr. Vane?" he said. "I thought I'd drop in to shake handswith you, especially as I have business with the Speaker, and heard hewas here. But I'm glad to have met you for many reasons. I want you to beone of the vice-presidents of the State Economic League--it won't costyou anything. Ridout has agreed to let his name go on. "

The Honourable Hilary, not being an emotional man, merely grunted as hestarted to rise to his feet. What he was about to say was interrupted bya timid knock, and there followed another brief period of silence. 

"It ain't anybody, " said Mr. Bascom, and crossing the room, turned thekey in the lock. The timid knock was repeated. 

"I suppose you're constantly interrupted here by unimportant people, " Mr. Crewe remarked. 

"Well, " said Mr. Vane, slowly, boring into Mr. Crewe with his eye, "thatstatement isn't far out of the way. "

"I don't believe you've ever met me, Mr. Vane. I'm Humphrey Crewe. Wehave a good friend in common in Mr. Flint. "

The Honourable Hilary's hand passed over Mr. Crewe's lightly. 

"Glad to meet you, Mr. Crewe, " he said, and a faint twinkle appeared inhis eye. "Job has told everybody you were coming down. Glad to welcome aman of your ahem--stamp into politics. "

"I'm a plain business man, " answered Mr. Crewe, modestly; "and although Ihave considerable occupation, I believe that one in my position hasduties to perform. I've certain bills--"

"Yes, yes, " agreed the Honourable Hilary; "do you know Mr. Brush Bascomand Mr. Manning? Allow me to introduce you, --and General Doby. "

"How are you, General?" said Mr. Crewe to the Speaker-to-be, "I'm alwaysglad to shake the hand of a veteran. Indeed, I have thought that asociety--"

"I earned my title, " said General Doby, somewhat sheepishly, "fighting onGovernor Brown's staff. There were twenty of us, and we were resistless, weren't we, Brush?"

"Twenty on a staff!" exclaimed Mr. Crewe. 

"Oh, we furnished our own uniforms and paid our own way--except those ofus who had passes, " declared the General, as though the memory of hismilitary career did not give him unalloyed pleasure. "What's the use ofState sovereignty if you can't have a glittering army to follow thegovernor round?"

Mr. Crewe had never considered this question, and he was not the man towaste time in speculation. 

"Doubtless you got a letter from me, General Doby, " he said. "We did whatwe could up our way to put you in the Speaker's chair. "

General Doby creased a little in the middle, to signify that he wasbowing. 

"I trust it will be in my power to reciprocate, Mr. Crewe, " he replied. 

"We want to treat Mr. Crewe right, " Mr. Bascom put in. 

"You have probably made a note of my requests, " Mr. Crewe continued. "Ishould like to be on the Judiciary Committee, for one thing. Although Iam not a lawyer, I know something of the principles of law, and Iunderstand that this and the Appropriations Committee are the mostimportant. I may say with truth that I should be a useful member of that, as I am accustomed to sitting on financial boards. As my bills are ofsome considerable importance and deal with practical progressivemeasures, I have no hesitation in asking for the chairmanship of PublicImprovements, --and of course a membership in the Agricultural isessential, as I have bills for them. Gentlemen, " he added to the room atlarge, "I have typewritten manifolds of those bills which I shall behappy to leave here--at headquarters. " And suiting the action to theword, he put down a packet on the table. 

The Honourable Brush Bascom, accompanied by Mr. Ridout, walked to thewindow and stood staring at the glitter of the electric light on thesnow. The Honourable Hilary gazed steadily at the table, while GeneralDoby blew his nose with painful violence. 

"I'll do what I can for you, certainly, Mr. Crewe, " he said. "But--whatis to become of the other four hundred and ninety-nine? The ways of aSpeaker are hard, Mr. Crewe, and I have to do justice to all. "

"Well, " answered Mr. Crewe, of course I don't want to be unreasonable, and I realize the pressure that's put upon you. But when you consider theimportance of the work I came down here to do--"

"I do consider it, " said the Speaker, politely. "It's a little early totalk about the make-up of committees. I hope to be able to get at them bySunday. You may be sure I'll do my best for you. "

"We'd better make a note of it, " said Mr. Crewe; "give me some paper, "and he was reaching around behind General Doby for one of the precioussheets under Mr. Bascom's hat, when the general, with great presence ofmind, sat on it. We have it, from a malicious and untrustworthy source, that the Northeastern Railroads paid for a new one. 

"Here, here, " cried the Speaker, "make the memorandum here. "

At this critical juncture a fortunate diversion occurred. A rap--threetimes--of no uncertain quality was heard at the door, and Mr. BrushBascom hastened to open it. A voice cried out:--"Is Manning here? Theboys are hollering for those passes, " and a wiry, sallow gentleman burstin, none other than the Honourable Elisha Jane, who was taking hisconsular vacation. When his eyes fell upon Mr. Crewe he halted abruptly, looked a little foolish, and gave a questioning glance at the HonourableHilary. 

"Mountain passes, Lish? Sit down. Did I ever tell you that story aboutthe slide in Rickets Gulch?" asked the Honourable Brush Bascom. Butfirst let me make you acquainted with Mr. Humphrey Crewe of Leith. Mr. Crewe has come down here with the finest lot of bills you ever saw, andwe're all going to take hold and put 'em through. Here, Lish, I'll giveyou a set. "

"Read 'em, Mr. Jane, " urged Mr. Crewe. "I don't claim much for 'em, butperhaps they will help to set a few little matters right--I hope so. "

Mr. Jane opened the bills with deliberation, and cast his eyes over theheadings. 

"I'll read 'em this very night, Mr. Crewe, " he said solemnly; "thismeeting you is a particular pleasure, and I have heard in many quartersof these measures. "

"Well, " admitted Mr. Crewe, "they may help some. I have a few othermatters to attend to this evening, so I must say good-night, gentlemen. Don't let me interfere with those I mountain passes, Mr. Manning. "

With this parting remark, which proved him to be not merely an idealistin politics, but a practical man, Mr. Crewe took his leave. And he wastoo much occupied with his own thoughts to pay any attention to the clickof the key as it turned in the lock, or to hear United States SenatorWhitredge rap (three times) on the door after he had turned the corner, or to know that presently the sliding doors into the governor's bridalsuite--were to open a trifle, large enough for the admission of the bodyof the Honourable Asa P. Gray. 

Number Seven still keeps up its reputation as the seat of benevolence, and great public benefactors still meet there to discuss the welfare oftheir fellow-men: the hallowed council chamber now of an empire, seat ofthe Governor-general of the State, the Honourable Hilary Vane, and hisadvisers. For years a benighted people, with a fond belief in theirparticipation of Republican institutions, had elected the noble fivehundred of the House and the stanch twenty of the Senate. Noble fivehundreds (biggest Legislature in the world) have come and gone; debated, applauded, fought and on occasions denounced, kicked over the traces, andeven wept--to no avail. Behold that political institution of man, representative government There it is on the stage, curtain up, a sublimespectacle for all men to see, and thrill over speeches about the Rightsof Man, and the Forefathers in the Revolution; about Constituents who donot constitute. The High Heavens allow it and smile, and it is well forthe atoms that they think themselves free American representatives, thatthey do not feel the string of predestination around their ankles. Thesenatorial twenty, from their high carved seats, see the strings andsmile, too; yes, and see their own strings, and smile. Wisdom does notwish for flight. "The people" having changed the constitution, theblackbirds are reduced from four and forty to a score. This ischeaper--for the people. 

Democracy on the front of the stage before an applauding audience;performers absorbed in their parts, forgetting that the landlord has tobe paid in money yet to be earned. Behind the stage, the real play, theabsorbing interest, the high stakes--occasional discreet laughter throughthe peep-hole when an actor makes an impassioned appeal to the gods. Democracy in front, the Feudal System, the Dukes and Earls behind--but inplain clothes; Democracy in stars and spangles and trappings andinsignia. Or, a better figure, the Fates weaving the web in that mysticchamber, Number Seven, pausing now and again to smile as a new thread isput in. Proclamations, constitutions, and creeds crumble beforeconditions; the Law of Dividends is the high law, and the Forum an openvent through which the white steam may rise heavenward and be resolvedagain into water. 

Mr. Crewe took his seat in the popular assemblage next day, although mostof the five hundred gave up theirs to the ladies who had come to hear hisExcellency deliver his inaugural. The Honourable Asa made a splendidfigure, all agreed, and read his speech in a firm and manly voice. Alarge part of it was about the people; some of it about the sacredgovernment they had inherited from their forefathers; still anotherconcerned the high character and achievements of the inhabitants withinthe State lines; the name of Abraham Lincoln was mentioned, and, witheven greater reverence and fervour, the Republican party which hadennobled and enriched the people--and incidentally elected the governor. There was a noble financial policy, a curtailment of expense. The forestsshould be protected, roads should be built, and, above all, corporationsshould be held to a strict accounting. 

Needless to say, the speech gave great satisfaction to all, and many oldfriends left the hall exclaiming that they didn't believe Asa had it inhim. As a matter of fact (known only to the initiated), Asa didn't haveit in him until last night, before he squeezed through the crack in thefolding doors from room number six to room Number Seven. The inspirationcame to him then, when he was ennobled by the Governor-general, whorepresents the Empire. Perpetual Governor-general, who quickens into lifepuppet governors of his own choosing Asa has agreed, for the honour ofthe title of governor of his State, to act the part, open the fairs, lendhis magnificent voice to those phrases which it rounds so well. It isfortunate, when we smoke a fine cigar from Havana, that we cannot lookinto the factory. The sight would disturb us. It was well for theapplauding, deep-breathing audience in the state-house that first ofJanuary that they did not have a glimpse in room Number Seven the nightbefore, under the sheets that contained the list of the Speaker'scommittees; it was well that they could not go back to Ripton into theoffices on the square, earlier in December, where Mr. Hamilton Tootingwas writing the noble part of that inaugural from memoranda given him bythe Honourable Hilary Vane. Yes, the versatile Mr. Tooting, and noneother, doomed forever to hide the light of his genius under a bushel! Thefinancial part was written by the Governor-general himself--theHonourable Hilary Vane. And when it was all finished and revised, it wasput into a long envelope which bore this printed address: Augustus P. Flint, Pres't United Northeastern Railroads, New York. And came back withcertain annotations on the margin, which were duly incorporated into it. This is the private history (which must never be told) of the documentwhich on January first became, as far as fame and posterity is concerned, the Honourable Asa P. Gray's--forever and forever. 

Mr. Crewe liked the inaugural, and was one of the first to tell Mr. Grayso, and to express his pleasure and appreciation of the fact that hisrequest (mailed in November) had been complied with, that the substanceof his bills had been recommended in the governor's programme. 

He did not pause to reflect on the maxim, that platforms are made to getin by and inaugurals to get started by. 

Although annual efforts have been made by various public-spiritedcitizens to build a new state-house, economy--with assistance from roomNumber Seven has triumphed. It is the same state-house from the galleryof which poor William Wetherell witnessed the drama of the WoodchuckSession, although there are more members now, for the population of theState has increased to five hundred thousand. It is well for GeneralDoby, with his two hundred and fifty pounds, that he is in the Speaker'schair; five hundred seats are a good many for that hall, and painful in along session. The Honourable Brush Bascom can stretch his legs, becausehe is fortunate enough to have a front seat. Upon inquiry, it turns outthat Mr. Bascom has had a front seat for the last twenty years--he hasbeen uniformly lucky in drawing. The Honourable Jacob Botcher (ten years'service) is equally fortunate; the Honourable Jake is a man of largepresence, and a voice that sounds as if it came, oracularly, from thecaverns of the earth. He is easily heard by the members on the backseats, while Mr. Bascom is not. Mr. Ridout, the capital lawyer, is in theHouse this year, and singularly enough has a front seat likewise. It wasMr. Crewe's misfortune to draw number 415, in the extreme corner of theroom, and next the steam radiator. But he was not of the metal to accepttamely such a ticketing from the hat of destiny (via the Clerk of theHouse). He complained, as any man of spirit would, and Mr. Utter, thepolite clerk, is profoundly sorry, --and says it maybe managed. Curiouslyenough, the Honourable Brush Bascom and the Honourable Jacob Botcher joinMr. Crewe in his complaint, and reiterate that it is an outrage that aman of such ability and deserving prominence should be among thesubmerged four hundred and seventy. It is managed in a mysterious mannerwe don't pretend to fathom, and behold Mr. Crewe in the front of theForum, in the seats of the mighty, where he can easily be pointed outfrom the gallery at the head of the five hundred, between those shiningleaders and parliamentarians, the Honourables Brush Bascom and JakeBotcher. 

For Mr. Crewe has not come to the Legislature, like the country membersin the rear, to acquire a smattering of parliamentary procedure by theday the Speaker is presented with a gold watch, at the end of thesession. Not he! Not the practical business man, the member of boards, the chairman and president of societies. He has studied the Rules of theHouse and parliamentary law, you may be sure. Genius does not comeunprepared, and is rarely caught napping. After the Legislatureadjourned that week the following telegram was sent over the wires:--

 Augustus P. Flint, New York. 

 Kindly use your influence with Doby to secure my committee appointments. Important as per my conversation with you. 

 Humphrey Crewe. 

Nor was Mr. Crewe idle from Saturday to Monday night, when the committeeswere to be announced. He sent to the State Tribune office for fiftycopies of that valuable paper, which contained a two-column-and-a-halfarticle on Mr. Crewe as a legislator and financier and citizen, with asummary of his bills and an argument as to how the State would benefit bytheir adoption; an accurate list of Mr. Crewe's societies was inserted, and an account of his life's history, and of those ancestors of his whohad been born or lived within the State. Indeed, the accuracy of thisarticle as a whole did great credit to the editor of the State Tribune, who must have spent a tremendous amount of painstaking research upon it;and the article was so good that Mr. Crewe regretted (undoubtedly for theeditor's sake) that a request could not be appended to it such as is usedupon marriage and funeral notices: "New York, Boston, and Philadelphiapapers please copy. "

Mr. Crewe thought it his duty to remedy as much as possible theunfortunate limited circulation of the article, and he spent as much as awhole day making out a list of friends and acquaintances whom he thoughtworthy to receive a copy of the Tribune--marked personal. Victoria Flintgot one, and read it to her father at the breakfast table. (Mr. Flint didnot open his. ) Austen Vane wondered why any man in his obscure andhelpless position should have been honoured, but honoured he was. He senthis to Victoria, too, and was surprised to find that she knew hishandwriting and wrote him a letter to thank him for it: a letter whichprovoked on his part much laughter, and elements of other sensationswhich, according to Charles Reade, should form the ingredients of a goodnovel. But of this matter later. 

Mrs. Pomfret and Alice each got one, and each wrote Mr. Crewe appropriatecongratulations. (Alice's answer supervised. ) Mrs. Chillingham got one;the Honourable Hilary Vane got one--marked in red ink, lest he shouldhave skipped it in his daily perusal of the paper. Mr. Brush, Bascom gotone likewise. But the list of Mr. Crewe's acquaintances is too long andtoo broad to dwell upon further in these pages. 

The Monday-night session came at last, that sensational hour when theSpeaker makes those decisions to which he is supposed to have given birthover Sunday in the seclusion of his country home at Hale. Monday-nightsessions are, as a rule, confined in attendance to the Honourable BrushBascom and Mr. Ridout and a few other conscientious members who do notbelieve in cheating the State, but to-night all is bustle and confusion, and at least four hundred members are pushing down the aisles andsqueezing past each other into the narrow seats, and reading the StateTribune or the ringing words of the governor's inaugural which they findin the racks on the back of the seats before them. Speaker Doby, who hasbeen apparently deep in conference with the most important members (amongthem Mr. Crewe, to whom he has whispered that a violent snow-storm israging in Hale), raps for order; and after a few preliminaries hands toMr. Utter, the clerk, amidst a breathless silence, the paper on which theparliamentary career of so many ambitious statesmen depends. 

It is not a pleasure to record the perfidy of man, nor the lack ofjudgment which prevents him, in his circumscribed lights, fromrecognizing undoubted geniuses when he sees them. Perhaps it was jealousyon General Doby's part, and a selfish desire to occupy the centre of thestage himself, but at any rate we will pass hastily over the disagreeableportions of this narrative. Mr. Crewe settled himself with his feetextended, and with a complacency which he had rightly earned by leavingno stone unturned, to listen. He sat up a little when the AppropriationsCommittee, headed by the Honourable Jake Botcher, did not contain hisname--but it might have been an oversight of Mr. Utters; when theJudiciary (Mr. Ridout's committee) was read it began to look like malice;committee after committee was revealed, and the name of Humphrey Crewemight not have been contained in the five hundred except as the twelfthmember of forestry, until it appeared at the top of National Affairs. Here was a broad enough field, certainly, --the Trusts, the Tariff, theGold Standard, the Foreign Possessions, --and Mr. Crewe's mind began tosoar in spite of himself. Public Improvements was reached, and hestraightened. Mr. Beck, a railroad lawyer from Belfast, led it. Mr. Crewearose, as any man of spirit would, and walked with dignity up the aisleand out of the house. This deliberate attempt to crush genius wouldinevitably react on itself. The Honourable Hilary Vane and Mr. Flintshould be informed of it at once. 

CHAPTER X

"FOR BILLS MAY COME, AND BILLS MAY GO"

A man with a sense of humour once went to the capital as a member of thefive hundred from his town, and he never went back again. One reason forthis was that he died the following year, literally, the doctors said, from laughing too much. I know that this statement will be receivedincredulously, and disputed by those who claim that laughter is a goodthing; the honourable gentleman died from too much of a good thing. Hewas overpowered by having too much to laugh at, and the undiscerningthought him a fool, and the Empire had no need of a court jester. Butmany of his sayings have lived, nevertheless. He wrote a poem, said to bea plagiarism, which contains the quotation at the beginning of thischapter: "For bills may come, and bills may go, but I go on forever. " Thefirst person singular is supposed to relate to the United NortheasternRailroads. It was a poor joke at best. 

It is needless to say that the gentleman referred to had a back seatamong the submerged four hundred and seventy, --and that he kept it. Nodiscerning and powerful well-wishers came forward and said to him, "Friend, go up higher. " He sat, doubled up, in number, and the gods gavehim compensation in laughter; he disturbed the Solons around him, whowere interested in what was going on in front, and trying to do theirduty to their constituents by learning parliamentary procedure before theSpeaker got his gold watch and shed tears over it. 

The gentleman who laughed and died is forgotten, as he deserves to be, and it never occurred to anybody that he might have been a philosopher, after all. There is something irresistibly funny about predestination;about men who are striving and learning and soberly voting upon measureswith which they have as little to do as guinea-pigs. There were certainwise and cynical atheists who did not attend the sessions at all exceptwhen they received mysterious hints to do so. These were chiefly fromNewcastle. And there were others who played poker in the state-housecellar waiting for the Word to come to them, when they went up and voted(prudently counting their chips before they did so), and descended again. The man with a sense of humour laughed at these, too, and at the twentyblackbirds in the Senate, --but not so heartily. He laughed at theirgravity, for no gravity can equal that of gentlemen who play with stackedcards. 

The risible gentleman laughed at the proposed legislation, about which hemade the song, and he likened it to a stream that rises hopefully in themountains, and takes its way singing at the prospect of reaching theocean, but presently flows into a hole in the ground to fill theforgotten caverns of the earth, and is lost to the knowledge and sight ofman. The caverns he labelled respectively Appropriations, Railroad, Judiciary, and their guardians were unmistakably the Honourables Messrs. Bascom, Botcher, and Ridout. The greatest cavern of all he called "TheSenate. "

If you listen, you can hear the music of the stream of bills as it isrising hopefully and flowing now: "Mr. Crewe of Leith gives notice thaton to-morrow or some subsequent day he will introduce a bill entitled, 'An act for the Improvement of the State Highways. ' Mr. Crewe of Leithgives notice, etc. 'An act for the Improvement of the Practice ofAgriculture. ' 'An act relating to the State Indebtedness. ' 'An act toincrease the State Forest Area. ' 'An act to incorporate the StateEconomic League. ' 'An act to incorporate the State Children's CharitiesAssociation. ' 'An act in relation to Abandoned Farms. '" These were someof the most important, and they were duly introduced on the morrow, andgravely referred by the Speaker to various committees. As might beexpected, a man whose watchword is, "thorough" immediately got a list ofthose committees, and lost no time in hunting up the chairmen and thevarious available members thereof. 

As a man of spirit, also, Mr. Crewe wrote to Mr. Flint, protesting as tothe manner in which he had been treated concerning committees. In thecourse of a week he received a kind but necessarily brief letter from theNortheastern's president to remind him that he persisted in a fallacy; asa neighbour, Mr. Flint would help him to the extent of his power, but theNortheastern Railroads could not interfere in legislative or politicalmatters. Mr. Crewe was naturally pained by the lack of confidence of hisfriend; it seems useless to reiterate that he was far from being a fool, and no man could be in the capital a day during the session without beingtold of the existence of Number Seven, no matter how little the informantmight know of what might be going on there. Mr. Crewe had been fortunateenough to see the inside of that mysterious room, and, being asufficiently clever man to realize the importance and necessity ofgovernment by corporations, had been shocked at nothing he had seen orheard. However, had he had a glimpse of the Speaker's lists under thehopelessly crushed hat of Mr. Bascom, perhaps he might have been shocked, after all. 

It was about this time that a touching friendship began which ought, injustice, to be briefly chronicled. It was impossible for the HonourableBrush Bascom and the Honourable Jacob Botcher to have Mr. Crewe sittingbetween them and not conceive a strong affection for him. The HonourableBrush, though not given to expressing his feelings, betrayed somesurprise at the volumes Mr. Crewe had contributed to the stream of bills;and Mr. Botcher, in a Delphic whisper, invited Mr. Crewe to visit him inroom forty-eight of the Pelican that evening. To tell the truth, Mr. Crewe returned the feeling of his companions warmly, and he had evenentertained the idea of asking them both to dine with him that evening. 

Number forty-eight (the Honourable Jake's) was a free-and-easy democraticresort. No three knocks and a password before you turn the key here. Almost before your knuckles hit the panel you heard Mr. Botcher's heartyvoice shouting "Come in, " in spite of the closed transom. The HonourableJake, being a tee-totaller, had no bathroom, and none but his intimatefriends ever looked in the third from the top bureau drawer. 

The proprietor of the Pelican, who in common with the rest of humanityhad fallen a victim to the rough and honest charms and hearty goodfellowship of the Honourable Jake, always placed a large padded arm-chairin number forty-eight before the sessions, knowing that the HonourableJake's constituency would be uniformly kind to him. There Mr. Botcher waswont to sit (when he was not depressing one of the tiles in the rotunda), surrounded by his friends and their tobacco smoke, discussing in hisfrank and manly fashion the public questions of the day. 

Mr. Crewe thought it a little strange that, whenever he entered a room inthe Pelican, a silence should succeed the buzz of talk which he had heardthrough the closed transom; but he very naturally attributed this to theconstraint which ordinary men would be likely to feel in his presence. Inthe mouth of one presumptuous member the word "railroad" was cut in twoby an agate glance from the Honourable Brush, and Mr. Crewe noted withsome surprise that the Democratic leader of the House, Mr. Painter, wasseated on Mr. Botcher's mattress, with an expression that was in singularcontrast to the look of bold defiance which he had swept over the Housethat afternoon in announcing his opposition policy. The vulgar politicalsuggestion might have crept into a more trivial mind than Mr. Crewe'sthat Mr. Painter was being, "put to bed, " the bed being very similar tothat of Procrustes. Mr. Botcher extracted himself from the nooks andcrannies of his armchair. 

"How are you, Crewe?" he said hospitably; "we're all friends here--eh, Painter? We don't carry our quarrels outside the swinging doors. You knowMr. Crewe--by sight, of course. Do you know these other gentlemen, Crewe?I didn't expect you so early. "

The "other gentlemen" said that they were happy to make the acquaintanceof their fellow-member from Leith, and seemingly with one consent beganto edge towards the door. 

"Don't go, boys, " Mr. Bascom protested. "Let me finish that story. "

Some of "the boys" seemed to regard this statement as humorous, --morehumorous, indeed, than the story itself. And when it was finished theytook their departure, a trifle awkwardly, led by Mr. Painter. 

"They're a little mite bashful, " said Mr. Botcher, apologetically. 

"How many more of those bills have you got?" demanded Mr. Bascom, fromthe steam radiator, with characteristic directness. 

"I put 'em all in this morning, " said Mr. Crewe, "but I have thoughtsince of two or three other conditions which might be benefited bylegislation. "

"Well, " said Mr. Bascom, kindly, "if you have any more I was going tosuggest that you distribute 'em round among the boys. That's the way Ido, and most folks don't guess they're your bills. See?"

"What harm is there in that?" demanded Mr. Crewe. "I'm not ashamed of'em. "

"Brush was only lookin' at it from the point of view of gettin' 'emthrough, " honest Mr. Botcher put in, in stentorian tones. "It doesn't dofor a new member to be thought a hog about legislation. "

Now the Honourable Jacob only meant this in the kindest manner, as weknow, and to give inexperience a hint from well-intentioned experience. On the other hand, Mr. Crewe had a dignity and a position to uphold. Hewas a personality. People who went too far with him were apt to berebuked by a certain glassy quality in his eye, and this now caused theHonourable Jake to draw back perceptibly. 

"I see no reason why a public-spirited man should be open to such animputation, " said Mr. Crewe. 

"Certainly not, certainly not, " said Mr. Botcher, in stentorian tones ofapology, "I was only trying to give you a little friendly advice, but Imay have put it too strong. Brush and I--I may as well be plain about it, Mr. Crewe--have taken a liking to you. Couldn't help it, sir, sittingnext to you as we do. We take an interest in your career, and we don'twant you to make any mistakes. Ain't that about it, Brush?"

"That's about it, " said Mr. Bascom. 

Mr. Crewe was to big a man not to perceive and appreciate the sterlingphilanthropy which lay beneath the exteriors of his new friends, whoscorned to flatter him. 

"I understand the spirit in which your advice is given, gentlemen, " hereplied magnanimously, "and I appreciate it. We are all working for thesame things, and we all believe that they must be brought about in thesame practical way. For instance, we know as practical men that therailroad pays a large tax in this State, and that property must take ahand--a very considerable hand--in legislation. You gentlemen, asimportant factors in the Republican organization, are loyal to--er--thatproperty, and perhaps for wholly desirable reasons cannot bring forwardtoo many bills under your own names. Whereas I--"

At this point in Mr. Crewe's remarks the Honourable Jacob Botcher wasseized by an appalling coughing fit which threatened to break hisarm-chair, probably owing to the fact that he had swallowed somethingwhich he had in his mouth the wrong way. Mr. Bascom, assisted by Mr. Crewe, pounded him relentlessly on the back. 

"I read that article in the 'Tribune' about you with great interest, "said Mr. Bascom, when Mr. Botcher's coughing had subsided. "I had no ideayou were so--ahem--well equipped for a political career. But what wewanted to speak to you about was this, " he continued, as Mr. Crewe showedsigns of breaking in, "those committee appointments you desired. "

"Yes, " said Mr. Crewe, with some pardonable heat, "the Speaker doesn'tseem to know which side his bread's buttered on. "

"What I was going to say, " proceeded Mr. Bascom, "was that General Dobyis a pretty good fellow. Personally, I happen to know that the generalfeels very badly that he couldn't give you what you wanted. He took ashine to you that night you saw him. "

"Yes, " Mr. Botcher agreed, for he had quite recovered, the general feltbad--feels bad, I should say. He perceived that you were a man ofability, sir--"

"And that was just the reason, " said the Honourable Brush, "that hecouldn't make you more useful just now. "

"There's a good deal of jealousy, my dear sir, against young members ofability, " said Mr. Botcher, in his most oracular and impressive tones. "The competition amongst those--er--who have served the party is verykeen for the positions you desired. I personally happen to know that thegeneral had you on the Judiciary and Appropriations, and that some ofyour--er--well-wishers persuaded him to take you off for your own good. "

"It wouldn't do for the party leaders to make you too prominent all atonce, " said Mr. Bascom. "You are bound to take an active part in whatpasses here. The general said, 'At all events I will give Mr. Crewe onechairmanship by which he can make a name for himself suited to histalents, ' and he insisted on giving you, in spite of some remonstrancesfrom your friends, National Affairs. The general urged, rightly, thatwith your broad view and knowledge of national policy, it was his duty toput you in that place whatever people might say. "

Mr. Crewe listened to these explanations in some surprise; and being arational man, had to confess that they were--more or less reasonable. 

"Scarcely any bills come before that committee, " he objected. 

"Ah, " replied Mr. Bascom, "that is true. But the chairman of thatcommittee is generally supposed to be in line for--er--national honours. It has not always happened in the past, because the men have not provedworthy. But the opportunity is always given to that chairman to make aspeech upon national affairs which is listened to with the deepestinterest. 

"Is that so?" said Mr. Crewe. He wanted to be of service, as we know. Hewas a man of ideas, and the opening sentences of the speech were alreadyoccurring to him. 

"Let's go upstairs and see the general now, " suggested Mr. Botcher, smiling that such a happy thought should have occurred to him. 

"Why, I guess we couldn't do any better, " Mr. Bascom agreed. 

"Well, " said Mr. Crewe, "I'm willing to hear what he's got to say, anyway. "

Taking advantage of this generous concession, Mr. Botcher hastily lockedthe door, and led the way up the stairway to number seventy-five. After aknock or two here, the door opened a crack, disclosing, instead ofGeneral Doby's cherubic countenance, a sallow face with an exceedinglypointed nose. The owner of these features, having only Mr. Botcher in hisline of vision, made what was perhaps an unguarded remark. 

"Hello, Jake, the general's in number nine--Manning sent for him abouthalf an hour ago. "

It was Mr. Botcher himself who almost closed the door on the gentleman'ssharp nose, and took Mr. Crewe's arm confidingly. 

"We'll go up to the desk and see Doby in the morning, --he's busy, " saidthe Honourable Jake. 

"What's the matter with seeing him now?" Mr. Crewe demanded. "I knowManning. He's the division superintendent, isn't he?"

Mr. Botcher and Mr. Bascom exchanged glances. 

"Why, yes--" said Mr. Bascom, "yes, he is. He's a great friend of GeneralDoby's, and their wives are great friends. "

"Intimate friends, sir, " said the Honourable Jake

"Well, " said Mr. Crewe, "we won't bother 'em but a moment. "

It was he who led the way now, briskly, the Honourable Brush and theHonourable Jake pressing closely after him. It was Mr. Crewe who, withoutpausing to knock, pushed open the door of number nine, which was notquite closed; and it was Mr. Crewe who made the important discovery thatthe lugubrious division superintendent had a sense of humour. Mr. Manningwas seated at a marble-topped table writing on a salmon-coloured card, inthe act of pronouncing these words:--"For Mr. Speaker and Mrs. Speakerand all the little Speakers, to New York and return. "

Mr. Speaker Doby, standing before the marble-topped table with his handsin his pockets, heard the noise behind him and turned, and a mournfulexpression spread over his countenance. 

"Don't mind me, " said Mr. Crewe, waving a hand in the direction of thesalmon-coloured tickets; "I hope you have a good time, General. When doyou go?"

"Why, " exclaimed the Speaker, "how are you, Mr. Crewe, how are you? It'sonly one of Manning's little jokes. "

"That's all right, General, " said Mr. Crewe, "I haven't been a directorin railroads for nothing. I'm not as green as he thinks. Am I, Mr. Manning?"

"It never struck me that green was your colour, Mr. Crewe, " answered thedivision superintendent, smiling a little as he tore the tickets intobits and put them in the waste-basket. 

"Well, " said Mr. Crewe, "you needn't have torn 'em up on my account. Itravel on the pass which the Northeastern gives me as a legislator, andI'm thinking seriously of getting Mr. Flint to send me an annual, nowthat I'm in politics and have to cover the State. "

"We thought you were a reformer, Mr. Crewe, " the Honourable Brush Bascomremarked. 

"I am a practical man, " said Mr. Crewe; "a railroad man, a business markand as such I try to see things as they are. "

"Well, " said General Doby, who by this time had regained his usual genialair of composure, I'm glad you said that, Mr. Crewe. As these gentlemenwill tell you, if I'd had my wish I'd have had you on every importantcommittee in the House. "

"Chairman of every important committee, General, " corrected theHonourable Jacob Botcher. 

"Yes, chairman of 'em, " assented the general, after a glance at Mr. Crewe's countenance to see how this statement fared. "But the fact is, the boys are all jealous of you--on the quiet. I suppose you suspectedsomething of the kind. "

"I should have imagined there might be some little feeling, " Mr. Creweassented modestly. 

"Exactly, " cried the general, "and I had to combat that feeling when Iinsisted upon putting you at the head of National Affairs. It does not dofor a new member, whatever his prominence in the financial world, to bepushed forward too quickly. And unless I am mighty mistaken, Mr. Crewe, "he added, with his hand on the new member's shoulder, "you will makeyourself felt without any boosting from me. "

"I did not come here to remain idle, General, " answered Mr. Crewe, considerably mollified. 

"Certainly not, " said the general, "and I say to some of those men, 'Keepyour eye on the gentleman who is Chairman of National Affairs. '"

After a little more of this desultory and pleasant talk, during whichrecourse was, had to the bathroom for several tall and thin glassesranged on the shelf there, Mr. Crewe took his departure in a most equableframe of mind. And when the door was closed and locked behind him, Mr. Manning dipped his pen in the ink, once more produced from a drawer inthe table the salmon-coloured tickets, and glanced again at the generalwith a smile. 

"For Mr. Speaker and Mrs. Speaker and all the little Speakers, to NewYork and return. "