t to defend 'emselves."

"Certain. I ain't got anything again' 'em," Mr. Ball agreed quickly. "I
guess they know what they're about. By the bye, Mr. Crewe," he added,
coming dangerously near the varnish again, and drawing back, "you hain't
happened to have seen Job Braden, have you?"

"Job Braden!" exclaimed Mr. Crewe, "Job Braden! What's all this mystery
about Job Braden? Somebody whispers that name in my ear every day. If you
mean that smooth-faced cuss that stutters and lives on Braden's Hill, I
called on him, but he was out. If you see him, tell him to come up to
Wedderburn, and I'll talk with him."

Mr. Ball made a gesture to indicate a feeling divided between respect for
Mr. Crewe and despair at the hardihood of such a proposition.

"Lord bless you, sir, Job wouldn't go."

"Wouldn't go?"

"He never pays visits,--folks go to him."

"He'd come to see me, wouldn't he?"

"I--I'm afraid riot, Mr. Crewe. Job holds his comb rather high."

"Do you mean to say this two-for-a-cent town has a boss?"

"Silas Grantley was born here," said Mr. Ball--for even the worm will
turn. "This town's got a noble history."

"I don't care anything about Silas Grantley. What I want to know is, how
this rascal manages to make anything out of the political pickings of a
town like Leith."

"Well, Job ain't exactly a rascal, Mr. Crewe. He's got a good many of
them hill farmers in a position of--of gratitude. Enough to control the
Republican caucus."

"Do you mean he buys their votes?" demanded Mr. Crewe.

"It's like this," explained Mr. Ball, "if one of 'em falls behind in his
grocery bill, for example, he can always get money from Job. Job takes a
mortgage, but he don't often close down on 'm. And Job has been
collectin' credentials in Avalon County for upward of forty years."

"Collecting credentials?"

"Yes. Gets a man nominated to State and county conventions that can't go,
and goes himself with a bunch of credentials. He's in a position to
negotiate. He was in all them railrud fights with Jethro Bass, and now he
does business with Hilary Vane or Brush Bascom when anything especial's
goin' on. You'd ought to see him, Mr. Crewe."

"I guess I won't waste my time with any picayune boss if the United
Northeastern Railroads has any hand in this matter," declared Mr. Crewe.
"Wind her up."

This latter remark was addressed to a long-suffering chauffeur who looked
like a Sicilian brigand.

"I didn't exactly like to suggest i