a card for Crewe to have Flint's daughter here."

Austen sat for a long time after reading this letter, idly watching
the snow-clouds gathering around Sawanec. Then he tore up the paper,
on which he had been scribbling, into very small bits, consulted a
time-table, and at noon, in a tumult of feelings, he found himself in a
back seat of the express, bound for the capital.

Arriving at the station, amidst a hurry and bustle of legislators and
politicians coming and going, many of whom nodded to him, he stood for a
minute in the whirling snow reflecting. Now that he was here, where was
he to stay? The idea of spending the night at the Pelican was repellent
to him, and he was hesitating between two more modest hostelries when he
was hailed by a giant with a flowing white beard, a weather-beaten face,
and a clear eye that shone with a steady and kindly light. It was James
Redbrook, the member from Mercer.

"Why, how be you, Austen?" he cried, extending a welcome hand; and, when
Austen had told him his dilemma: "Come right along up to my lodgings. I
live at the Widow Peasley's, and there's a vacant room next to mine."

Austen accepted gratefully, and as they trudged through the storm up the
hill, he inquired how legislative matters were progressing. Whereupon
Mr. Redbrook unburdened himself.

"Say, I just warmed up all over when I see you, Austen. I'm so glad to
run across an honest man. We ain't forgot in Mercer what you did for Zeb
Meader, and how you went against your interests. And I guess it ain't
done you any harm in the State. As many as thirty or forty members have
spoke to me about it. And down here I've got so I just can't hold in any
more."

"Is it as bad as that, Mr. Redbrook?" asked Austen, with a serious
glance at the farmer's face.

"It's so bad I don't know how to begin," said the member from Mercer,
and paused suddenly. "But I don't want to hurt your feelings, Austen,
seeing your father is--where he is."

"Go on," said Austen, "I understand."

"Well," said Mr. Redbrook, "it just makes me tremble as an American
citizen. The railrud sends them slick cusses down here that sit in the
front seats who know all this here parliamentary law and the tricks of
the trade, and every time any of us gets up to speak our honest minds,
they have us ruled out of order or get the thing laid on the table until
some Friday morning when there ain't nobody here, and send it along
up to the Senate. They made that fat fel