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 not
reply to it, but presently asked for the political news in Ripton.

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

"Vane Why, he ain't a full-fledged lawyer yet. I've hired him in an
unimportant 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
hustle for 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 some row with the Northeastern over lumber shipments. I understand
they're goin' to buck 'em for a franchise in the next Legislature, just
to make it lively. The Gaylords ain't exactly poverty-stricken, but they
might as well 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 Republican
nomination for the State senate in his district against the railroad
candidate and Austen's late opponent, the Honourable Nat Billings. It
was a fact also that Austen had invited the delegation to sit down,
although there were only two chairs, and that a wrestling match had
ensued with young Tom, in the progress of which one chair had been
broken. Young Tom thought it was time to fight the railroad, and
perceived in Austen the elements of a rebel leader. Austen had
undertaken to throw young Tom out of a front window, which was a large,
old-fashioned one,--and after Herculean efforts had actually got him
on the ledge, when something in the street caught his eye and made him
desist abruptly. The something was the vision of a young woman in a
brown linen suit seated in a runabout and driving a horse almost as
handsome as Pepper.

When the delegation, after exhausting their mental and physical powers
of persuasion, had at length taken their departure in disgust, Austen
opened mechanically a letter which had very much the appearance of
an advertisement, and bearing a one-cent stamp. It announ