all attention, and the one who had not before
spoken said:

"I know. Through the old Hammond property."

"It used to belong to Mr. Hammond," replied Jack, "but it belongs to my
father now."

"Can you give me a list of the other owners of property?" asked the
railway man with some interest.

"I can tell you who owns every acre around Crofield, boundary lines and
all," answered Jack. "I was born there. You don't know about the
people, though. They'll do almost anything to have the road there. My
father will help all he can. He says the place is dead now."

"What's his name?" asked the first speaker, with a notebook and a
pencil in his hand.

"His is John Ogden. Mine's Jack Ogden. My father knows every man in
the county," replied Jack.

"Ogden," said the gentleman in the forward seat, next the window. "My
name's Magruder; we three are directors in the new road. I'm a
director in this road. Are you to stay in Albany?"

"I go by the night boat to New York," said Jack, almost proudly.

"Can you stay over a day? We'll entertain you at the Delavan House if
you'll give us some information."

"Certainly; I'll be glad to," said Jack; and so when the train stopped
at Albany, Jack was talking familiarly enough with the three railway
directors.

Mary Ogden had a very clear idea that Mr. Murdoch preferred to make up
the next paper without any help from her, and even Mrs. Murdoch was
almost glad to know that her young friend was to spend the next week
with Mrs. Edwards.

One peculiar occurrence of that day had not been reported at the
_Eagle_ office, and it had consequences. The Committee of Six, who had
visited the sanctum so threateningly, went away beaten, but recounted
their experience. They did so in the office of the Mertonville Hotel,
and Mike Flaherty had more than a little to say about "that gurril,"
and about "the black eyes of her," and the plucky way in which she had
faced them.

One little old gentleman whose eyes were still bright, in spite of his
gray hair, stood in the door and listened, with his hand behind his ear.

"Gentlemen," exclaimed this little old man, turning to the men behind
him. "Did you hear 'em? I guess I know what we ought to do. Come on
into Crozier's with me--all of you. We must give her a testimonial for
her pluck."

"Crozier's?" asked a portly, well-dressed man. "Nothing there but
dry-goods."

"Come, Jeroliman. You're a banker and you're needed. I dare yo