thing whatever to do with the Gaylord bill.

At this moment a commotion arose within the room, and a high, tremulous,
but singularly fierce and compelling voice was heard crying out:--"Get
out! Get out, d----n you, all of you, and don't come back until you've
got some notion of what you're a-goin' to do. Get out, I say!"

These last words were pronounced with such extraordinary vigour that
four gentlemen seemed to be physically impelled from the room. Three of
them Austen recognized as dismissed and disgruntled soldiers from the
lobby army of the Northeastern; the fourth was the Honourable Galusha
Hammer, whose mode of progress might be described as "stalking," and
whose lips were forming the word "intolerable." In the corner old Tom
himself could be seen, a wizened figure of wrath.

"Who's that?" he demanded of his son, "another d-d fool?"

"No," replied young Tom, "it's Austen Vane."

"What's he doin' here?" old Tom demanded, with a profane qualification
as to the region. But young Tom seemed to be the only being capable of
serenity amongst the flames that played around him.

"I sent for him because he's got more sense than Galusha and all the
rest of 'em put together," he said.

"I guess that's so," old Tom agreed unexpectedly, "but it ain't sayin'
much. Bring him in--bring him in, and lock the door."

In obedience to these summons, and a pull from young Tom, Austen entered
and sat down.

"You've read the Pingsquit bill?" old Tom demanded.

"Yes," said Austen.

"Just because you won a suit against the Northeastern, and nearly killed
a man out West, Tom seems to think you can do anything. He wouldn't,
give me any peace until I let him send for you," Mr. Gaylord remarked
testily. "Now you're down here, what have you got to propose?"

"I didn't come here to propose anything, Mr. Gaylord," said Austen.

"What!" cried Mr. Gaylord, with one of his customary and forceful
exclamations. "What'd you come down for?"

"I've been asking myself that question ever since I came, Mr. Gaylord,"
said Austen, "and I haven't yet arrived at any conclusion."

Young Tom looked at his friend and laughed, and Mr. Gaylord, who at
first gave every indication of being about to explode with anger,
suddenly emitted a dry cackle.

"You ain't a d-n fool, anyway," he declared.

"I'm beginning to think I am," said Austen.

"Then you've got sense enough to know it," retorted old Tom. "Most
of 'em haven't." And his glance, as it fel