ead. "I
don't know by rights what to think. As long as I've said what I have,
I'll say this: that the politicians is all for the railrud, and I hain't
got a mite of use for the politicians. I'll vote for a feller like Austen
Vane every time, if he'll run, and I know other folks that will."

After Mr. Jenney had left her, Victoria stood motionless, gazing off into
the haze, until she was startled by the voice of Hastings Weare beside
her.

"Say, Victoria, who is that man?" he asked.

"What man?"

Hastings nodded towards Austen, who, with a cake basket in his hand,
stood chatting with a group of country people on the edge of the porch.

"Oh, that man!" said Victoria. "His name's Austen Vane, and he's a lawyer
in Ripton."

"All I can say is," replied Hastings, with a light in his face, "he's one
I'd like to tie to. I'll bet he could whip any four men you could pick
out."

Considering that Hastings had himself proposed--although in a very mild
form--more than once to Victoria, this was generous.

"I daresay he could," she agreed absently.

"It isn't only the way he's built," persisted Hastings, "he looks as if
he were going to be somebody some day. Introduce me to him, will you?"

"Certainly," said Victoria. "Mr. Vane," she called, "I want to introduce
an admirer, Mr. Hastings Weare."

"I just wanted to know you," said Hastings, reddening, "and Victoria--I
mean Miss Flint--said she'd introduce me."

"I'm much obliged to her," said Austen, smiling.

"Are you in politics?" asked Hastings.

"I'm afraid not," answered Austen, with a glance at Victoria.

"You're not helping Humphrey Crewe, are you?"

"No," said Austen, and added with an illuminating smile, "Mr. Crewe
doesn't need any help."

"I'm glad you're not," exclaimed the downright Hastings, with palpable
relief in his voice that an idol had not been shattered. "I think
Humphrey's a fakir, and all this sort of thing tommyrot. He wouldn't get
my vote by giving me lemonade and cake and letting me look at his cows.
If you ever run for office, I'd like to cast it for you. My father is
only a summer resident, but since he has gone out of business he stays
here till Christmas, and I'll be twenty-one in a year."

Austen had ceased to smile; he was looking into the boy's eyes with that
serious expression which men and women found irresistible.

"Thank you, Mr. Weare," he said simply.

Hastings was suddenly overcome with the shyness of youth. He held out hi