tions are
accepted. He is the same Humphrey Crewe that he was before he became the
corner-stone of the temple; success is a mere outward and visible sign
of intrinsic worth in the inner man, and Mr. Crewe had never for a
moment underestimated his true value.

"There's, no use wasting time in talking about it," he told the grateful
members who sought to press his hands. "Go home and organize. I've got
your name. Get your neighbours into line, and keep me informed. I'll pay
for the postage-stamps. I'm no impractical reformer, and if we're going
to do this thing, we'll have to do it right."

They left him, impressed by the force of this argument, with an added
respect for Mr. Crewe, and a vague feeling that they were pledged to
something which made not a few of them a trifle uneasy. Mr. Redbrook was
one of these.

The felicitations of his new-found friend and convert, Mr. Tooting, Mr.
Crewe cut short with the terseness of a born commander.

"Never mind that," he said, "and follow 'em up and get 'em pledged if
you can."

Get 'em pledged! Pledged to what? Mr. Tooting evidently knew, for he
wasted no precious moments in asking questions.

There is no time at this place to go into the feelings of Mr. Tom
Gaylord the younger when he learned that his bill had passed the House.
He, too, meeting Mr. Crewe in the square, took the opportunity to
express his gratitude to the member from Leith.

"Come in on Friday afternoon, Gaylord," answered Mr. Crewe. "I've got
several things to talk to you about. Your general acquaintance around
the State will be useful, and there must be men you know of in the
lumber sections who can help us considerably."

"Help us?" repeated young Tom, in same surprise.

"Certainly," replied Mr. Crewe; "you don't think we're going to drop the
fight here, do you? We've got to put a stop in this State to political
domination by a railroad, and as long as there doesn't seem to be anyone
else to take hold, I'm going to. Your bill's a good bill, and we'll pass
it next session."

Young Tom regarded Mr. Crewe with a frank stare.

"I'm going up to the Pingsquit Valley on Friday," he answered.

"Then you'd better come up to Leith to see me as soon as you get back,"
said Mr. Crewe. "These things can't wait, and have to be dealt with
practically."

Young Tom had not been the virtual head of the Gaylord Company for some
years without gaining a little knowledge of politics and humanity. The
invitation to Le