happy eyes and lovely
bloom. The happy eyes were Margery's, though they were brown instead of
harebell blue, and looked out from a face which was not quite Margery's,
though its smile was hers. Latimer asked himself if it was possible that
his manner wore the aspect of ordinary calm as he stood before her.

Sheba wondered at the coldness of his hand as she took it. She was not
attracted by his anxious face, and it must be confessed that his
personality produced on her the effect it frequently produced on those
meeting him for the first time. It was not he who was the great man, but
she felt timid before him when he spoke to her.

No one was shy of Baird. He produced his inevitable effect also. In a few
minutes he had become the centre of the small company. He had made
friends with Rupert, and launched Tom in conversation. Sheba was
listening to him with a brightness of look charming to behold.

They sat about the table and talked, and he led them all back to the
mountains which had been seeming so far away. He wanted to hear of the
atmosphere, the life, the people; and yet, as they answered his queries
and related anecdotes, he was learning from each one something bearing on
the story of the claim. When Tom spoke of Barnesville and Judge
Rutherford, or Rupert of Delisleville and Matt, their conversation was
guided in such manner that business details of the claim were part of
what was said. It was Tom who realised this first and spoke of it.

"We are talking of our own business as if it was the one subject on
earth," he said. "That's the worst of people with a claim. I've seen a
good many of them since I've been in Washington--and we are all alike."

"I have been asking questions because the subject interests me, too,"
said Baird. "More people than yourselves discuss it. It formed a chief
topic of conversation when I dined with Senator Milner, two nights ago."

"Milner!" said Tom. "He was the man who had not time to hear me in the
morning."

"His daughter, Mrs. Meredith, was inquiring about you. She wanted to hear
the story. I shall tell it to her."

"Ah!" exclaimed Tom; "if _you_ tell it, it will have a chance."

"Perhaps," Baird laughed. "I may be able to help you. A man who is used
to audiences might be of some practical value."

He met Sheba's eyes by accident. A warm light leaped into them.

"They care a great deal more than they will admit to me," she said to
him, when chance left them together a few mi