asket, and then Mr. Flint would be content to wait. To complete the
character sketch, Mr. Flint was not above hanging up his master's hat
and coat, Which he did upon the present occasion, and went up to Mr.
Worthington's bedroom to fetch a pocket handkerchief out of the second
drawer. He even knew where the handkerchiefs were kept. Lucky petty
sovereigns sometimes possess Mr. Flints to make them emperors.

The august personage seated himself briskly at his desk.

"So that scoundrel Bass is actually discredited at last," he said,
blowing his nose in the pocket handkerchief Mr. Flint had brought him.
"I lose patience when I think how long we've stood the rascal in this
state. I knew the people would rise in their indignation when they
learned the truth about him."

Mr. Flint did not answer this. He might have had other views.

"I wonder we did not think of it before," Mr. Worthington continued. "A
very simple remedy, and only requiring a little courage and--and--" (Mr.
Worthington was going to say money, but thought better of it) "and the
chimera disappears. I congratulate you, Flint."

"Congratulate yourself," said Mr. Flint; "that would not have been my
way."

"Very well, I congratulate myself," said the august personage, who was
in too good a humor to be put out by the rejection of a compliment. "You
remember what I said: the time was ripe, just publish a few biographical
articles telling people what he was, and Jethro Bass would snuff out
like a candle. Mr. Duncan tells me the town-meeting results are very
good all over the state. Even if we hadn't knocked out Jethro Bass, we'd
have a fair majority for our bill in the next legislature."

"You know Bass's saying," answered Mr. Flint, "You can hitch that kind
of a hoss, but they won't always stay hitched."

"I know, I know," said Mr. Worthington; "don't croak, Flint. We can
buy more hitch ropes, if necessary. Well, what's the outlay up to the
present? Large, I suppose. Well, whatever it is, it's small compared to
what we'll get for it." He laughed a little and rubbed his hands, and
then he remembered that capacity in which he stood before the world.
Yes, and he stood before himself in the same capacity. Isaac Worthington
may have deceived himself, but he may or may not have been a hero to
his seneschal. "We have to fight fire with fire," he added, in a pained
voice. "Let me see the account."

"I have tabulated the expense in the different cities and towns,"
an