ch I might now call myself an integral part that
the "best" publications contained only the barest mention,--and that in
the legislative news,--of the signing of the bill. I read with
complacency and even with amusement the flaring headlines I had
anticipated in Mr. Lawler's 'Pilot.'

"The Governor Signs It!"

"Special legislation, forced through by the Railroad Lobby, which will
drive honest corporations from this state."

"Ribblevale Steel Company the Victim."

It was common talk in the capital, the article went on to say, that
Theodore Watling himself had drawn up the measure.... Perusing the
editorial page my eye fell on the name, Krebs. One member of the
legislature above all deserved the gratitude of the people of the
state,--the member from Elkington. "An unknown man, elected in spite of
the opposition of the machine, he had dared to raise his voice against
this iniquity," etc., etc.

We had won. That was the essential thing. And my legal experience had
taught me that victory counts; defeat is soon forgotten. Even the
discontented, half-baked and heterogeneous element from which the Pilot
got its circulation had short memories.

XI.

The next morning, which was Sunday, I went to Mr. Watling's house in,
Fillmore Street--a new residence at that time, being admired as the
dernier cri in architecture. It had a mediaeval look, queer dormers in a
steep roof of red tiles, leaded windows buried deep in walls of rough
stone. Emerging from the recessed vestibule on a level with the street
were the Watling twins, aglow with health, dressed in identical costumes
of blue. They had made their bow to society that winter.

"Why, here's Hugh!" said Frances. "Doesn't he look pleased with himself?"

"He's come to take us to church," said Janet.

"Oh, he's much too important," said Frances. "He's made a killing of some
sort,--haven't you, Hugh?"...

I rang the bell and stood watching them as they departed, reflecting that
I was thirty-two years of age and unmarried. Mr. Watling, surrounded with
newspapers and seated before his library fire, glanced up at me with a
welcoming smile: how had I borne the legislative baptism of fire? Such, I
knew, was its implication.

"Everything went through according to schedule, eh? Well, I congratulate
you, Hugh," he said.

"Oh, I didn't have much to do with it," I answered, smiling back at him.
"I kept out of sight."

"That's an art in itself."

"I had an opportunity, at c