to be true."

There was a note in her voice which young Tom did not understand.
Afterwards, when he reflected about the matter, he wondered if she were
unhappy.

"I don't want to blame Hilary too much," he answered. "I know Austen
don't. Hilary's grown up with that way of doing things, and in the old
days there was no other way. Hilary is the chief counsel for the
Northeastern, and he runs the Republican organization in this State for
their benefit. But Austen made up his mind that there was no reason why
he should grow up that way. He says that a lawyer should keep to his
profession, and not become a lobbyist in the interest of his clients. He
lived with the old man until the other day, because he has a real soft
spot for him. Austen put up with a good deal. And then Hilary turned
loose on him and said a lot of things he couldn't stand. Austen didn't
answer, but went up and packed his bags and made Hilary's housekeeper
promise to stay with him, or she'd have left, too. They say Hilary's
sorry, now. He's fond of Austen, but he can't get along with him."

"Do--Do you know what they quarreled about?" asked Victoria, in a low
voice.

"This spring," said Tom, "the Gaylord Lumber Company made Austen junior
counsel. He ran across a law the other day that nobody else seems to have
had sense enough to discover, by which we can sue the railroad for
excessive freight rates. It means a lot of money. He went right in to
Hilary and showed him the section, told him that suit was going to be
brought, and offered to resign. Hilary flew off the track--and said if he
didn't bring suit he'd publish it all over the State that Austen started
it. Galusha Hammer, our senior counsel, is sick, and I don't think he'll
ever get well. That makes Austen senior counsel. But he persuaded old
Tom, my father, not to bring this suit until after the political
campaign, until Mr. Crewe gets through with his fireworks. Hilary doesn't
know that."

"I see," said Victoria.

Down the hill, on the far side of the track, she perceived the two men
approaching with a horse; then she remembered the fact that she had been
thrown, and that it was her horse. She rose to her feet.

"I'm ever so much obliged to you, Mr. Gaylord," she said; "you have done
me a great favour by--telling me these things. And thanks for letting
them catch the horse. I'm afraid I've put you to a lot of bother."

"Not at all," said Tom, "not at all." He was studying her face. Its
ex