ours over Sherman's livery stable."

An interval of silence followed, during which Mr. Worthington shuffled
with his letters and pretended to read them.

"Graves has called a mass meeting to-night, I understand," he remarked in
the same casual way. "The man's a demagogue, and mad as a loon. I believe
he sent back one of our passes once, didn't he? I suppose Bass has come
in to get Hartington to work up the meeting. They'll be laughed out of
the town hall, or hissed out."

"I guess you'll find Bass has come down for something else," said Mr.
Flint, looking up from a division report.

"What do you mean?" demanded Mr. Worthington, changing his attitude to
one of fierceness. But he was well aware that whatever tone he took with
his seneschal, he never fooled him.

"I mean what I told you yesterday," said Flint, "that you've stirred up
the dragon."

Even Mr. Flint did not know how like a knell his words sounded in Isaac
Worthington's ears.

"Nonsense!" he cried, "you're talking nonsense, Flint. We maimed him too
thoroughly for that. He hasn't power enough left to carry his own town."

"All right," said the seneschal.

"What do you mean by that?" said his master, with extreme irritation.

"I mean what I said yesterday, that we haven't maimed him at all. He had
his own reasons for going into his hole, and he never would have come out
again if you hadn't goaded him. Now he's out, and we'll have to step
around pretty lively, I can tell you, or he'll maim us."

All of which goes to show that Mr. Flint had some notion of men and
affairs. He became, as may be predicted, the head of many material things
in later days, and he may sometime reappear in company with other
characters in this story.

The sickly feeling in Mr. Worthington's diaphragm had now returned.

"I think you will find you are mistaken, Flint," he said, attempting
dignity now. "Very much mistaken."

"Very well," said Flint, "perhaps I am. But I believe you'll find he left
for the capital on the eleven o'clock, and if you take the trouble to
inquire from Bedding you will probably learn that the Throne Room is
bespoken for the session."

All of that which Mr, Flint had predicted turned out to be true. The
dragon had indeed waked up. It all began with the news Milly Skinner had
got from the stage driver, imparted to Jethro as he sat reading about
Hiawatha. And terrible indeed had been that awakening. This dragon did
not bellow and roar and lash his tai