e bed. The thin dead
face stared back at her, unresponsive.

She sank down beside the bed, moaning.

"Daid, daid, oh, my Gawd, gi' me back my chile! Oh, don't I believe
you enough? Oh, Lucy, Lucy, my little lamb! I got you yo' gif'. Oh,
Lucy!"

The next day was set apart for the funeral. The Mission preacher read:
"The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away, blessed be the name of the
Lord," and some one said "Amen!" But Martha could not echo it in her
heart. Lucy was her last, her one treasured lamb.

A COUNCIL OF STATE

PART I

Luther Hamilton was a great political power. He was neither
representative in Congress, senator nor cabinet minister. When asked
why he aspired to none of these places of honor and emolument he
invariably shrugged his shoulders and smiled inscrutably. In fact, he
found it both more pleasant and more profitable simply to boss his
party. It gave him power, position and patronage, and yet put him
under obligations to no narrow constituency.

As he sat in his private office this particular morning there was a
smile upon his face, and his little eyes looked out beneath the heavy
grey eyebrows and the massive cheeks with gleams of pleasure. His
whole appearance betokened the fact that he was feeling especially
good. Even his mail lay neglected before him, and his eyes gazed
straight at the wall. What wonder that he should smile and dream. Had
he not just the day before utterly crushed a troublesome opponent?
Had he not ruined the career of a young man who dared to oppose him,
driven him out of public life and forced his business to the wall? If
this were not food for self-congratulation pray what is?

Mr. Hamilton's reverie was broken in upon by a tap at the door, and
his secretary entered.

"Well, Frank, what is it now? I haven't gone through my mail yet."

"Miss Kirkman is in the outer office, sir, and would like to see you
this morning."

"Oh, Miss Kirkman, heh; well, show her in at once."

The secretary disappeared and returned ushering in a young woman, whom
the "boss" greeted cordially.

"Ah, Miss Kirkman, good-morning! Good-morning! Always prompt and busy,
I see. Have a chair."

Miss Kirkman returned his greeting and dropped into a chair. She began
at once fumbling in a bag she carried.

"We'll get right to business," she said. "I know you're busy, and so
am I, and I want to get through. I've got to go and hunt a servant for
Mrs. Senator Dutton when I leave here."