t, but--" He paused, and looked
at Austen.

"The Legislature needs leavening."

"Precisely," exclaimed Mr. Crewe, "and when I look around me and see the
things crying to be done in this State, and no lawmaker with sense and
foresight enough to propose them, it makes me sick. Now, for instance,"
he continued, and rose with an evident attempt to assault the forestry
shelves. But Austen rose too.

"I'd like to go over that with you, Mr. Crewe," said he, "but I have to
be back in Ripton."

"How about my case?" his host demanded, with a return to his former
abruptness.

"What about it?" asked Austen.

"Are you going to take it?"

"Struggling lawyers don't refuse business."

"Well," said Mr. Crewe, "that's sensible. But what are you going to
charge?"

"Now," said Austen, with entire good humour, "when you get on that
ground, you are dealing no longer with one voracious unit, but with a
whole profession,--a profession, you will allow me to add, which in
dignity is second to none. In accordance with the practice of the best
men in that profession, I will charge you what I believe is fair--not
what I think you are able and willing to pay. Should you dispute the
bill, I will not stoop to quarrel with you, but, try to live on bread and
butter a while longer."

Mr. Crewe was silent for a moment. It would not be exact to say
uncomfortable, for it is to be doubted whether he ever got so. But he
felt dimly that the relations of patron and patronized were becoming
somewhat jumbled.

"All right," said he, "I guess we can let it go at that. Hello! What the
deuce are those women doing here again?"

This irrelevant exclamation was caused by the sight through the open
French window--of three ladies in the flower garden, two of whom were
bending over the beds. The third, upon whose figure Austen's eyes were
riveted, was seated on a stone bench set in a recess of pines, and
looking off into the Yale of the Blue. With no great eagerness, but
without apology to Austen, Mr. Crewe stepped out of the window and
approached them; and as this was as good a way as any to his horse and
buggy, Austen followed. One of the ladies straightened at their
appearance, scrutinized them through the glasses she held in her hand,
and Austen immediately recognized her as the irreproachable Mrs. Pomfret.

"We didn't mean to disturb you, Humphrey," she said. "We knew you would
be engaged in business, but I told Alice as we drove by I could not
resi