, to study the methods of our
lawmakers."

"They're not particularly edifying," Mr. Watling replied. "But they
seem, unfortunately, to be necessary."

Such had been my own thought.

"Who is this man Krebs?" he inquired suddenly. "And why didn't Varney
get hold of him and make him listen to reason?"

"I'm afraid it wouldn't have been any use," I replied. "He was in my
class at Harvard. I knew him--slightly. He worked his way through, and
had a pretty hard time of it. I imagine it affected his ideas."

"What is he, a Socialist?"

"Something of the sort." In Theodore Watling's vigorous, sanity-exhaling
presence Krebs's act appeared fantastic, ridiculous. "He has queer
notions about a new kind of democracy which he says is coming. I think
he is the kind of man who would be willing to die for it."

"What, in these days!" Mr. Watling looked at me incredulously. "If
that's so, we must keep an eye on him, a sincere fanatic is a good deal
more dangerous than a reformer who wants something. There are such men,"
he added, "but they are rare. How was the Governor, Trulease?" he asked
suddenly. "Tractable?"

"Behaved like a lamb, although he insisted upon going through with his
little humbug," I said.

Mr. Watling laughed. "They always do," he observed, "and waste a lot of
valuable time. You'll find some light cigars in the corner, Hugh."

I sat down beside him and we spent the morning going over the details
of the Ribblevale suit, Mr. Watling delegating to me certain matters
connected with it of a kind with which I had not hitherto been
entrusted; and he spoke again, before I left, of his intention of
taking me into the firm as soon as the affair could be arranged. Walking
homeward, with my mind intent upon things to come, I met my mother at
the corner of Lyme Street coming from church. Her face lighted up at
sight of me.

"Have you been working to-day, Hugh?" she asked.

I explained that I had spent the morning with Mr. Watling.

"I'll tell you a secret, mother. I'm going to be taken into the firm."

"Oh, my dear, I'm so glad!" she exclaimed. "I often think, if only your
father were alive, how happy he would be, and how proud of you. I wish
he could know. Perhaps he does know."

Theodore Watling had once said to me that the man who can best keep
his own counsel is the best counsel for other men to keep. I did not go
about boasting of the part I had played in originating the now famous
Bill No. 709, the passage o