being that Mr. Crewe had not made, on the
occasions on which they had had intercourse, the most favourable of
impressions. However, it is not for the struggling lawyer to scorn any
honourable brief, especially from a gentleman of stocks and bonds and
varied interests like Mr. Crewe, with whom contentions of magnitude are
inevitably associated. As he spun along behind Pepper on the Leith road
that climbed Willow Brook on the afternoon he had made the appointment,
Austen smiled to himself over his anticipations, and yet---being
human-let his fancy play.

The broad acres of Wedderburn stretched across many highways, but the
manor-house (as it had been called) stood on an eminence whence one could
look for miles down the Yale of the Blue. It had once been a farmhouse,
but gradually the tail had begun to wag the dog, and the farmhouse
became, like the original stone out of which the Irishman made the soup,
difficult to find. Once the edifice had been on the road, but the road
had long ago been removed to a respectful distance, and Austen entered
between two massive pillars built of granite blocks on a musical gravel
drive.

Humphrey Crewe was on the porch, his hands in his pockets, as Austen
drove up.

"Hello," he said, in a voice probably meant to be hospitable, but which
had a peremptory ring, "don't stand on ceremony. Hitch your beast and
come along in."

Having, as it were, superintended the securing of Pepper, Mr. Crewe led
the way through the house to the study, pausing once or twice to point
out to Austen a carved ivory elephant procured at great expense in China,
and a piece of tapestry equally difficult of purchase. The study itself
was no mere lounging place of a man of pleasure, but sober and formidable
books were scattered through the cases: "Turner's Evolution of the
Railroad," "Graham's Practical Forestry," "Eldridge's Finance"; while
whole shelves of modern husbandry proclaimed that Mr. Humphrey Crewe was
no amateur farmer. There was likewise a shelf devoted to road building,
several to knotty-looking pamphlets, and half a wall of neatly labelled
pigeonholes. For decoration, there was an oar garnished with a ribbon,
and several groups of college undergraduates, mostly either in puffed
ties or scanty attire, and always prominent in these groups, and always
unmistakable, was Mr. Humphrey Crewe himself.

Mr. Crewe was silent awhile, that this formidable array of things might
make the proper impression upo