utler that Cowperwood turned now, some nineteen
months later when he was thinking of the influence that might bring him
an award of a portion of the State issue of bonds. Butler could probably
be interested to take some of them himself, or could help him place
some. He had come to like Cowperwood very much and was now being carried
on the latter's books as a prospective purchaser of large blocks of
stocks. And Cowperwood liked this great solid Irishman. He liked his
history. He had met Mrs. Butler, a rather fat and phlegmatic Irish woman
with a world of hard sense who cared nothing at all for show and who
still liked to go into the kitchen and superintend the cooking. He had
met Owen and Callum Butler, the boys, and Aileen and Norah, the girls.
Aileen was the one who had bounded up the steps the first day he had
called at the Butler house several seasons before.

There was a cozy grate-fire burning in Butler's improvised private
office when Cowperwood called. Spring was coming on, but the evenings
were cool. The older man invited Cowperwood to make himself comfortable
in one of the large leather chairs before the fire and then proceeded to
listen to his recital of what he hoped to accomplish.

"Well, now, that isn't so easy," he commented at the end. "You ought to
know more about that than I do. I'm not a financier, as you well know."
And he grinned apologetically.

"It's a matter of influence," went on Cowperwood. "And favoritism.
That I know. Drexel & Company and Cooke & Company have connections at
Harrisburg. They have men of their own looking after their interests.
The attorney-general and the State treasurer are hand in glove with
them. Even if I put in a bid, and can demonstrate that I can handle the
loan, it won't help me to get it. Other people have done that. I have to
have friends--influence. You know how it is."

"Them things," Butler said, "is easy enough if you know the right
parties to approach. Now there's Jimmy Oliver--he ought to know
something about that." Jimmy Oliver was the whilom district attorney
serving at this time, and incidentally free adviser to Mr. Butler in
many ways. He was also, accidentally, a warm personal friend of the
State treasurer.

"How much of the loan do you want?"

"Five million."

"Five million!" Butler sat up. "Man, what are you talking about? That's
a good deal of money. Where are you going to sell all that?"

"I want to bid for five million," assuaged Cowperwood, s