d, sallow,
country lawyers in long black coats crumpled from much sitting on the
small of the back; country storekeepers with shrewd eyes, and local
proprietors and manufacturers.

"Uncle Jethro, I didn't know you were such a great man," she said.

"H-how did ye find out, Cynthy?"

"The way people treat you here. I knew you were great, of course," she
hastened to add.

"H-how do they treat me?" he asked, looking down at her.

"You know," she answered. "They all stop talking when you come along and
stare at you. But why don't you speak to them?"

Jethro smiled and squeezed her arm again, and then they were in the
corridor of the famous Pelican Hotel, hazy with cigar smoke and
filled with politicians. Some were standing, hanging on to pillars,
gesticulating, some were ranged in benches along the wall, and a chosen
few were in chairs grouped around the spittoons. Upon the appearance
of Jethro's party, the talk was hushed, the groups gave way, and they
accomplished a kind of triumphal march to the desk. The clerk, descrying
them, desisted abruptly from a conversation across the cigar counter,
and with all the form of a ceremony dipped the pen with a flourish into
the ink and handed it to Jethro.

"Your rooms are ready, Judge," he said.

As they started for the stairs, Jethro and Cynthia leading the way,
Wetherell felt a touch on his elbow and turned to confront Mr. Bijah
Bixby--at very close range, as usual.

"C-come down at last, Will?" he said. "Thought ye would. Need everybody
this time--you understand."

"I came on pleasure," retorted Mr. Wetherell, somewhat angrily.

Mr. Bixby appeared hugely to enjoy the joke.

"So I callated," he cried, still holding Wetherell's hand in a mild, but
persuasive grip. "So I callated. Guess I done you an injustice, Will."

"How's that?"

"You're a leetle mite smarter than I thought you was. So long. Got a
leetle business now--you understand a leetle business."

Was it possible, indeed, for the simple-minded to come to the capital
and not become involved in cabals? With some misgivings William
Wetherell watched Mr. Bixby disappear among the throng, kicking up his
heels behind, and then went upstairs. On the first floor Cynthia was
standing by an open door.

"Dad," she cried, "come and see the rooms Uncle Jethro's got for us!"
She took Wetherell's hand and led him in. "See the lace curtains, and
the chandelier, and the big bureau with the marble top."

Jethro had part