f the Gaylords. What I wish to know is,
whether my taking the case would cause you any personal inconvenience or
distress? If so, I will refuse it."

"No," answered the Honourable Hilary, "it won't. Bring suit. Much use
it'll be. Do you expect they can recover under that section?"

"I think it is worth trying," said Austen.

"Why didn't somebody try it before?" asked the Honourable Hilary.

"See here, Judge, I wish you'd let me out of an argument about it. Suit
is going to be brought, whether I bring it or another man. If you would
prefer for any reason that I shouldn't bring it--I won't. I'd much
rather resign as counsel for the Gaylords--and I am prepared to do so."

"Bring suit," answered the Honourable Hilary, quickly, "bring suit by
all means. And now's your time. This seems to be a popular season
for attacking the property which is the foundation of the State's
prosperity." ("Book of Arguments," chapter 3.)

In spite of himself, Austen smiled again. Long habit had accustomed
Hilary Vane to put business considerations before family ties; and this
habit had been the secret of his particular success. And now, rather
than admit by the least sign the importance of his son's discovery of
the statute (which he had had in mind for many years, and to which
he had more than once, by the way, called Mr. Flint's attention), the
Honourable Hilary deliberately belittled the matter as part and parcel
of the political tactics against the Northeastern.

Sears caused by differences of opinion are soon healed; words count for
nothing, and it is the soul that attracts or repels. Mr. Vane was not
analytical, he had been through a harassing day, and he was unaware that
it was not Austen's opposition, but Austen's smile, which set the torch
to his anger. Once, shortly after his marriage, when he had come home in
wrath after a protracted quarrel with Mr. Tredway over the orthodoxy
of the new minister, in the middle of his indignant recital of Mr.
Tredway's unwarranted attitude, Sarah Austen had smiled. The smile had
had in it, to be sure, nothing of conscious superiority, but it had been
utterly inexplicable to Hilary Vane. He had known for the first time
what it was to feel murder in the heart, and if he had not rushed out of
the room, he was sure he would have strangled her. After all, the Hilary
Vanes of this world cannot reasonably be expected to perceive the humour
in their endeavours.

Now the son's smile seemed the reincar