ainst a wire window-screen. He had pledged to him his own gardener,
Mrs. Pomfret's, the hired men of three of his neighbours, a few modest
souls who habitually took off their hats to him, and Mr. Ball, of the
village, who sold groceries to Wedderburn and was a general handy man for
the summer people. Mr. Ball was an agitator by temperament and a promoter
by preference. If you were a summer resident of importance and needed
anything from a sewing-machine to a Holstein heifer, Mr. Ball, the
grocer, would accommodate you. When Mrs. Pomfret's cook became inebriate
and refractory, Mr. Ball was sent for, and enticed her to the station and
on board of a train; when the Chillinghams' tank overflowed, Mr. Ball
found the proper valve and saved the house from being washed away. And it
was he who, after Mrs. Pomfret, took the keenest interest in Mr. Crewe's
campaign. At length came one day when Mr. Crewe pulled up in front of the
grocery store and called, as his custom was, loudly for Mr. Ball. The
fact that Mr. Ball was waiting on customers made no difference, and
presently that gentleman appeared, rubbing his hands together.

"How do you do, Mr. Crewe?" he said, "automobile going all right?"

"What's the matter with these fellers?" said Mr. Crewe. "Haven't I done
enough for the town? Didn't I get 'em rural free delivery? Didn't I
subscribe to the meeting-house and library, and don't I pay more taxes
than anybody else?"

"Certain," assented Mr. Ball, eagerly, "certain you do." It did not seem
to occur to him that it was unfair to make him responsible for the scurvy
ingratitude of his townsmen. He stepped gingerly down into the dust and
climbed up on the tool box.

"Look out," said Mr. Crewe, "don't scratch the varnish. What is it?"

Mr. Ball shifted obediently to the rubber-covered step, and bent his face
to his patron's ear.

"It's railrud," he said.

"Railroad!" shouted Mr. Crewe, in a voice that made the grocer clutch his
arm in terror. "Don't pinch me like that. Railroad! This town ain't
within ten miles of the railroad."

"For the love of David," said Mr. Ball, "don't talk so loud, Mr. Crewe."

"What's the railroad got to do with it?" Mr. Crewe demanded.

Mr. Ball glanced around him, to make sure that no one was within shouting
distance.

"What's the railrud got to do with anything in this State?" inquired Mr.
Ball, craftily.

"That's different," said Mr. Crewe, shortly, "I'm a corporation man
myself. They've go