road if he had behaved decently. Instead, he starts in
with suits against us. He's hit upon something now."

The president of the Northeastern dug savagely into the ground with his
stick, and suddenly perceived that his daughter had her face turned away
from his, towards the mountain.

"Well, I won't bore you with that."

She turned with a look in her eyes that bewildered him.

"You're not--boring me," she said.

"I didn't intend to go into all that," he explained more calmly, "but
the last few days have been trying, we've got to expect the wind to blow
from all directions."

Victoria smiled at him faintly.

"I have told you," she said, "that what you need is a trip abroad.
Perhaps some day you will remember it."

"Maybe I'll go in the autumn," he answered, smiling back at her. "These
little flurries don't amount to anything more than mosquito-bites--only
mosquitoes are irritating. You and I understand each other, Victoria,
and now listen. I'll give you the broad view of this subject, the view
I've got to take, and I've lived in the world and seen more of it than
some folks who think they know it all. I am virtually the trustee for
thousands of stockholders, many of whom are widows and orphans. These
people are innocent; they rely on my ability, and my honesty, for their
incomes. Few men who have not had experience in railroad management know
one-tenth of the difficulties and obstructions encountered by a railroad
president who strives to do his duty by the road. My business is to run
the Northeastern as economically as is consistent with good service and
safety, and to give the stockholders the best return for their money.
I am the steward--and so long as I am the steward," he exclaimed, "I'm
going to do what I think is right, taking into consideration all the
difficulties that confront me."

He got up and took a turn or two on the pine-needles. Victoria regarded
him in silence. He appeared to her at that moment the embodiment of
the power he represented. Force seemed to emanate from him, and she
understood more clearly than ever how, from a poor boy on an obscure
farm in Truro, he had risen to his present height.

"I don't say the service is what it should be," he went on, "but give
me time--give me time. With all this prosperity in the country we can't
handle the freight. We haven't got cars enough, tracks enough, engines
enough. I won't go into that with you. But I do expect you to understand
this: that