ind that. In the old
days an order was an order; there were no rebels then. In the old days
there was no wavering and rescinding, and if the chief counsel told you,
with brevity, to do a thing, you went and did it straightway, with the
knowledge that it was the best thing to do. Hilary Vane had aged
suddenly, and it occurred for the first time to many that, in this
utilitarian world, old blood must be superseded by young blood.

Two days before the convention, immediately after taking dinner at the
Ripton House with Mr. Nat Billings, Hilary Vane, in response to a
summons, drove up to Fairview. One driving behind him would have observed
that the Honourable Hilary's horse took his own gaits, and that the
reins, most of the time, drooped listlessly on his quarters. A September
stillness was in the air, a September purple clothed the distant hills,
but to Hilary the glories of the day were as things non-existent. Even
the groom at Fairview, who took his horse, glanced back at him with a
peculiar expression as he stood for a moment on the steps with a
hesitancy the man had never before remarked.

In the meantime Mr. Flint, with a pile of letters in a special basket on
the edge of his desk, was awaiting his counsel; the president of the
Northeastern was pacing his room, as was his wont when his activities
were for a moment curbed, or when he had something on his mind; and every
few moments he would glance towards his mantel at the clock which was set
to railroad time. In past days he had never known Hilary Vane to be a
moment late to an appointment. The door was open, and five and twenty
minutes had passed the hour before he saw the lawyer in the doorway. Mr.
Flint was a man of such preoccupation of mind that he was not likely to
be struck by any change there might have been in his counsel's
appearance.

"It's half-past three," he said.

Hilary entered, and sat down beside the window.

"You mean that I'm late," he replied.

"I've got some engineers coming here in less than an hour," said Mr.
Flint.

"I'll be gone in less than an hour," said Hilary.

"Well," said Mr. Flint, "let's get down to hardtack. I've got to be frank
with you, Vane, and tell you plainly that this political business is all
at sixes and sevens."

"It isn't necessary to tell me that," said Hilary.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that I know it."

"To put it mildly," the president of the Northeastern continued, "it's
the worst mixed-up campaign