to wag the dog, and the
farmhouse became, 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 road had long ago been removed to a respectful distance, and Austen
entered between two massive pillars built of granite blocks on a musical
gravel drive.

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

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

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

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

"It was lucky you came to-day, Vane," he said at length. "I am due in
New York to-morrow for a directors' meeting, and I have a conference in
Chicago 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 collecting
them,--ever since I left college. Those on railroads ought especially to
interest 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 be
looked after. It was a nuisance at first," said Mr. Crewe, "but I
didn't shirk it. I made up my mind I'd get to the bottom of the railroad
problem, and I did. It's no use doing a thing at all unless you do
it well." Mr. Crewe, his hands still in his pockets, faced Austen
smilin