ave him a railroad
pass, and brought him into relations with the men who manipulated
state affairs; also it made him a silent partner of Lige Bemis in
Garrison County politics.

But even when he was county commissioner, less than two dozen years
old, he was a force in Sycamore Ridge, and there were days when he had
four or five thousand dollars to his credit in General Hendricks'
bank. The general used to look over the daily balances and stroke his
iron-gray beard and say: "Robert, John is doing well to-day. Son, I
wish you had the acquisitive faculty. Why don't you invest something
and make something?" But Bob Hendricks was content to do his work in
the bank, and read at home one night and slip over to the Culpeppers'
the next night, and so long as the boy was steady and industrious and
careful, his father had no real cause for complaint, and he knew it.
But the town knew that John was getting on in the world. He owned half
of Culpepper's second addition, and his interest in College Heights
was clear; he never dealt in equities, but paid cash and gave warranty
deeds for what he sold. It was believed around the Ridge that he could
"clean up," for fifteen or twenty thousand dollars, and when he called
Mrs. Mason of the Mason House, Minneola, into the dining room one
afternoon to talk over a little matter with her, he found her most
willing. It was a short session. After listening and punctuating his
remarks with "of courses" and "yeses" and "so's," Mrs. Mason's reply
was:--

"Of course, Mr. Barclay,"--the Mr. Barclay he remembered as the only
time in his life he ever had it from her,--"of course, Mr. Barclay,
that is a matter rather for you and Mr. Mason to settle. You know,"
she added, folding her hands across her ample waist, "Mr. Mason is the
head of the house!" Then she lifted her voice, perhaps fearing that
matters might be delayed. "Oh, pa!" she cried. "Pa! Come in here,
please. There's a gentleman to see you."

Lycurgus Mason came in with a tea towel in his hands and an apron on.
He heard John through in a dazed way, his hollow eyes blinking with
evident uncertainty as to what was expected of him. When Barclay was
through, the father looked at the mother for his cue, and did not
speak for a moment. Then he faltered: "Why, yes,--yes,--I see! Well,
ma, what--" And at the cloud on her brow Lycurgus hesitated again,
and rolled his apron about his hands nervously and finally said,
"Oh--well--whatever you and her ma