d. "I did not think Mr. Pardriff capable of ingratitude."

What Mr. Crewe meant by this remark is enigmatical.

"He ain't," replied Mr. Tooting, "he's grateful for that red ticket
he carries around with him when he travels, and he's grateful to the
Honourable Adam B. Hunt for favours to come. Peter Pardriff's a grateful
cuss, all-right, all right."

Mr. Crewe tapped his fingers on the desk thoughtfully.

"The need of a reform campaign is more apparent than ever," he remarked.

Mr. Tooting put his tongue in his cheek; and, seeing a dreamy expression
on his friend's face, accidentally helped himself to a cigar out of the
wrong box.

"It's up to a man with a sense of duty and money to make it," Mr.
Tooting agreed, taking a long pull at the Havana.

"As for the money," replied Mr. Crewe, "the good citizens of the State
should be willing to contribute largely. I have had a list of men of
means prepared, who will receive notices at the proper time."

Mr. Hamilton Tooting spread out his feet, and appeared to be studying
them carefully.

"It's funny you should have mentioned cash," he said, after a moment's
silence, "and it's tough on you to have to be the public-spirited man
to put it up at the start. I've got a little memorandum here," he added,
fumbling apologetically in his pocket; "it certainly costs something to
move the boys around and keep 'em indignant."

Mr. Tooting put the paper on the edge of the desk, and Mr. Crewe,
without looking, reached out his hand for it, the pained expression
returning to his face.

"Tooting," he said, "you've got a very flippant way of speaking of
serious things. It strikes me that these expenses are out of all
proportion to the simplicity of the task involved. It strikes me--ahem
that you might find, in some quarters at least, a freer response to a
movement founded on principle."

"That's right," declared Mr. Tooting, "I've thought so myself. I've
got mad, and told 'em so to their faces. But you've said yourself, Mr.
Crewe, that we've got to deal with this thing practically."

"Certainly," Mr. Crewe interrupted. He loved the word.

"And we've got to get workers, haven't we? And it costs money to move
'em round, don't it? We haven't got a bushel basket of passes. Look
here," and he pushed another paper at Mr. Crewe, "here's ten new ones
who've made up their minds that you're the finest man in the State. That
makes twenty."

Mr. Crewe took that paper deprecatingly, but neve