iment against the
Northeastern Railroads. Yes, he was a friend of Mr. Flint's--they were
neighbours in the country. But if these charges had any foundation
whatever, they ought to be looked into--they ought to be taken up. A
sovereign people should not be governed by a railroad. Mr. Crewe was a
business man, but first of all he was a citizen; as a business man he did
not intend to talk vaguely, but to investigate thoroughly. And then, if
charges should be made, he would make them specifically, and as a citizen
contend for the right.

It is difficult to restrain one's pen in dealing with a hero, but it is
not too much to say that Mr. Crewe impressed many of the country members
favourably. How, indeed, could he help doing so? His language was
moderate, his poise that of a man of affairs, and there was a look in his
eye and a determination in his manner that boded ill for the Northeastern
if he should, after weighing the facts, decide that they ought to be
flagellated. His friendship with Mr. Flint and the suspicion that he
might be inclined to fancy Mr. Flint's daughter would not influence him
in the least; of that many of his hearers were sure. Not a few of them
were invited to dinner at the Duncan house, and shown the library and the
conservatory.

"Walk right in," said Mr. Crewe. "You can't hurt the flowers unless you
bump against the pots, and if you walk straight you can't do that. I
brought the plants down from my own hothouse in Leith. Those are French
geraniums--very hard to get. They're double, you see, and don't look like
the scrawny things you see in this country. Yes (with a good-natured
smile), I guess they do cost something. I'll ask my secretary what I paid
for that plant. Is that dinner, Waters? Come right in, gentlemen, we
won't wait for ceremony."

Whereupon the delegation would file into the dining room in solemn
silence behind the imperturbable Waters, with dubious glances at Mr.
Waters' imperturbable understudy in green and buff and silver buttons.
Honest red hands, used to milking at five o'clock in the morning, and
hands not so red that measured dry goods over rural counters for
insistent female customers fingered in some dismay what seemed an
inexplicable array of table furniture.

"It don't make any difference which fork you take," said the good-natured
owner of this palace of luxury, "only I shouldn't advise you to use one
for the soup you wouldn't get much of it--what? Yes, this house suits