the man they left out. You'll get a good man to write
your life, and what you done for the town and State, and all them
societies and bills, won't you? 'Twould be a thousand pities not to have
it right."

"How much does it cost?" Mr. Crewe inquired.

"Sure I forgot to ask Tim Fogarty. Mebbe he has it here. I signed one
myself, but I couldn't afford the steelengravin'. Yes, he slipped one in.
Two hundred dollars for a two-page biography, and, three hundred for the
steelengravin'. Five hundred dollars. I didn't know it was so cheap as
that," exclaimed the senator, "and everybody in the State havin' to own
one in self-protection. You don't happen to have a pen about you?"

Mr. Crewe waved the senator towards his own desk, and Mr. Grady filled
out the blank.

"It's lucky we are that I didn't drop in after eliction, and the book in
press," he remarked; "and I hope you'll give him a good photograph.
This's for you, I'll take this to Tim myself," and he handed the pen for
Mr. Crewe to sign with.

Mr. Crewe read over the agreement carefully, as a business man should,
before putting his signature to it. And then the senator, with renewed
invitations for Mr. Crewe to call on him when he came to Newcastle, took
his departure. Afterwards Mr. Crewe remained so long in reflection that
his man Waters became alarmed, and sought him out and interrupted his
revery.

The next morning Mrs. Pomfret, who was merely "driving by" with her
daughter Alice and Beatrice Chillingham, spied Mr. Crewe walking about
among the young trees he was growing near the road, and occasionally
tapping them with his stout stick. She poked her coachman in the back and
cried:--"Humphrey, you're such an important man now that I despair of
ever seeing you again. What was the matter last night?"

"A politician from Newcastle," answered Mr. Crewe, continuing to tap the
trees, and without so much as a glance at Alice.

"Well, if you're as important as this before you're elected, I can't
think what it will be afterwards," Mrs. Pomfret lamented. "Poor dear
Humphrey is so conscientious. When can you come, Humphrey?"

"Don't know," said Mr. Crewe; "I'll try to come tonight, but I may be
stopped again. Here's Waters now."

The three people in Mrs. Pomfret's victoria were considerably impressed
to see the dignified Waters hurrying down the slope from the house
towards them. Mr. Crewe continued to tap the trees, but drew a little
nearer the carriage.

"If you pl