lock at night when that
long-suffering and mud-bespattered individual put in an appearance at the
door of his friend's study.

"Because I didn't get on to it," answered Mr. Tooting, in response to a
reproach for not having registered a warning--for he was Mr. Crewe's
seismograph. "I knew old Adam was on the Railroads' governor's bench, but
I hadn't any notion he'd been moved up to the top of the batting list. I
told you right. Ridout was going to be their next governor if you hadn't
singed him with the Pingsquit bill. This was done pretty slick, wasn't
it? Hilary got back from New York day before yesterday, and Pardriff has
the editorial to-day. Say, I always told you Pardriff wasn't a reformer,
didn't I?"

Mr. Crewe looked pained.

"I prefer to believe the best of people until I know the worst," he said.
"I did not think Mr. Pardriff capable of ingratitude."

What Mr. Crewe meant by this remark is enigmatical.

"He ain't," replied Mr. Tooting, "he's grateful for that red ticket he
carries around with him when he travels, and he's grateful to the
Honourable Adam B. Hunt for favours to come. Peter Pardriff's a grateful
cuss, all-right, all right."

Mr. Crewe tapped his fingers on the desk thoughtfully.

"The need of a reform campaign is more apparent than ever," he remarked.

Mr. Tooting put his tongue in his cheek; and, seeing a dreamy expression
on his friend's face, accidentally helped himself to a cigar out of the
wrong box.

"It's up to a man with a sense of duty and money to make it," Mr. Tooting
agreed, taking a long pull at the Havana.

"As for the money," replied Mr. Crewe, "the good citizens of the State
should be willing to contribute largely. I have had a list of men of
means prepared, who will receive notices at the proper time."

Mr. Hamilton Tooting spread out his feet, and appeared to be studying
them carefully.

"It's funny you should have mentioned cash," he said, after a moment's
silence, "and it's tough on you to have to be the public-spirited man to
put it up at the start. I've got a little memorandum here," he added,
fumbling apologetically in his pocket; "it certainly costs something to
move the boys around and keep 'em indignant."

Mr. Tooting put the paper on the edge of the desk, and Mr. Crewe, without
looking, reached out his hand for it, the pained expression returning to
his face.

"Tooting," he said, "you've got a very flippant way of speaking of
serious things. It strikes