even with you some time for that sarcer
business.'"

This story, strange as it may seem, had a great success at Mr. Merrill's
table. Mr. Merrill and his daughter Susan shrieked with laughter when
it was finished, while Mrs. Merrill and Jane enjoyed themselves quite as
much in their quiet way. Even the two neat Irish maids, who were serving
the supper very much as poor Mis' Binney's had been served, were fain
to leave the dining room abruptly, and one of them disgraced herself
at sight of Jethro when she came in again, and had to go out once mare.
Mrs. Merrill insisted that Jethro should pour out his coffee in what she
was pleased to call the old-fashioned way. All of which goes to prove
that table-silver and cut glass chandeliers do not invariably make their
owners heartless and inhospitable. And Ephraim, whose plan of campaign
had been to eat nothing to speak of and have a meal when he got back to
the hotel, found that he wasn't hungry when he arose from the table.

There was much bantering of Jethro by Mr. Merrill, which the ladies did
not understand--talk of a mighty coalition of the big railroads which
was to swallow up the little railroads. Fortunately, said Mr.
Merrill, humorously, fortunately they did not want his railroad. Or
unfortunately, which was it? Jethro didn't know. He never laughed at
anybody's jokes. But Cynthia, who was listening with one ear while Susan
talked into the other, gathered that Jethro had been struggling with the
railroads, and was sooner or later to engage in a mightier struggle with
them. How, she asked herself in her innocence, was any one, even Uncle
Jethro, to struggle with a railroad? Many other people in these latter
days have asked themselves that very question.

All together the evening at Mr. Merrill's passed off so quickly and so
happily that Ephraim was dismayed when he discovered that it was ten
o'clock, and he began to make elaborate apologies to the ladies. But
Jethro and Mr. Merrill were still closeted together in the dining room:
once Mrs. Merrill had been called to that conference, and had returned
after a while to take her place quietly again among the circle of
Ephraim's listeners. Now Mr. Merrill came out of the dining room alone.

"Cynthia," he said, and his tone was a little more grave than usual,
"your Uncle Jethro wants to speak to you."

Cynthia rose, with a sense of something in the air which concerned her,
and went into the dining room. Was it the light fa