as the relations between the Trust and League became
more and more strained. He saw the matter in its true light. It was
typical. It was the world-old war between Freedom and Tyranny, and at
times his hatred of the railroad shook him like a crisp and withered
reed, while the languid indifference of the people of the State to the
quarrel filled him with a blind exasperation.

But, as he had once explained to Vanamee, he must find expression. He
felt that he would suffocate otherwise. He had begun to keep a journal.
As the inclination spurred him, he wrote down his thoughts and ideas in
this, sometimes every day, sometimes only three or four times a month.
Also he flung aside his books of poems--Milton, Tennyson, Browning, even
Homer--and addressed himself to Mill, Malthus, Young, Poushkin, Henry
George, Schopenhauer. He attacked the subject of Social Inequality with
unbounded enthusiasm. He devoured, rather than read, and emerged from
the affair, his mind a confused jumble of conflicting notions, sick with
over-effort, raging against injustice and oppression, and with not one
sane suggestion as to remedy or redress.

The butt of his cigarette scorched his fingers and roused him from his
brooding. In the act of lighting another, he glanced across the room
and was surprised to see two very prettily dressed young women in the
company of an older gentleman, in a long frock coat, standing before
Hartrath's painting, examining it, their heads upon one side.

Presley uttered a murmur of surprise. He, himself, was a member of the
club, and the presence of women within its doors, except on special
occasions, was not tolerated. He turned to Lyman Derrick for an
explanation, but this other had also seen the women and abruptly
exclaimed:

"I declare, I had forgotten about it. Why, this is Ladies' Day, of
course."

"Why, yes," interposed Cedarquist, glancing at the women over his
shoulder. "Didn't you know? They let 'em in twice a year, you remember,
and this is a double occasion. They are going to raffle Hartrath's
picture,--for the benefit of the Gingerbread Fair. Why, you are not
up to date, Lyman. This is a sacred and religious rite,--an important
public event."

"Of course, of course," murmured Lyman. He found means to survey Harran
and Magnus. Certainly, neither his father nor his brother were dressed
for the function that impended. He had been stupid. Magnus invariably
attracted attention, and now with his trousers stra