d all echoed the word, which
struck me as peculiarly appropriate. Much as I had admired Mr. Watling
before, it seemed indeed as if he had undergone some subtle change in the
last few hours, gained in dignity and greatness by the action of the
people that day. When it came my turn to bid him good night, he retained
my hand in his.

"Don't go yet, Hugh," he said.

"But you must be tired," I objected.

"This sort of thing doesn't make a man tired," he laughed, leading me
back to the library, where he began to poke the fire into a blaze. "Sit
down awhile. You must be tired, I think,--you've worked hard in this
campaign, a good deal harder than I have. I haven't said much about it,
but I appreciate it, my boy." Mr. Watling had the gift of expressing his
feelings naturally, without sentimentality. I would have given much for
that gift.

"Oh, I liked it," I replied awkwardly.

I read a gentle amusement in his eyes, and also the expression of
something else, difficult to define. He had seated himself, and was
absently thrusting at the logs with the poker.

"You've never regretted going into law?" he asked suddenly, to my
surprise.

"Why, no, sir," I said.

"I'm glad to hear that. I feel, to a considerable extent, responsible for
your choice of a profession."

"My father intended me to be a lawyer," I told him. "But it's true that
you gave me my--my first enthusiasm."

He looked up at me at the word.

"I admired your father. He seemed to me to be everything that a lawyer
should be. And years ago, when I came to this city a raw country boy from
upstate, he represented and embodied for me all the fine traditions of
the profession. But the practice of law isn't what it was in his day,
Hugh."

"No," I agreed, "that could scarcely be expected."

"Yes, I believe you realize that," he said. "I've watched you, I've taken
a personal pride in you, and I have an idea that eventually you will
succeed me here--neither Fowndes nor Ripon have the peculiar ability you
have shown. You and I are alike in a great many respects, and I am
inclined to think we are rather rare, as men go. We are able to keep one
object vividly in view, so vividly as to be able to work for it day and
night. I could mention dozens who had and have more natural talent for
the law than I, more talent for politics than I. The same thing may be
said about you. I don't regard either of us as natural lawyers, such as
your father was. He couldn't help being a