come
forward to embarrass his nominee. The public accepted the rumor of the
appointment with indifference, which remained undisturbed when a second
rumor told of Irish opposition. But for Arthur's determination the
selection of a chief-justice would have been as dull as the naming of a
consul to Algiers.

"We can make a good fight," was Grahame's conclusion, "but the field
belongs to Livingstone."

"Chance is always kind to the unfit," said Arthur, "because the Irish
are good-natured."

"I don't see the connection."

"I should have said, because mankind is so. In this case Quincy gets the
prize, because the Irish think he will get it."

"You speak like the oracle," said Grahame.

"Well, the fight must be made, a stiff one, to the last cartridge. But
it won't be enough, mere opposition. There must be another candidate. We
can take Quincy in front; the candidate can take him in the rear. It
must not be seen, only said, that the President surrendered to Irish
pressure. There's the plan: well-managed opposition, and another
candidate. We can see to the first, who will be the other?"

They were discussing that point without fruit when Anne knocked at the
door of the study, and entered in some anxiety.

"Is it true, what I heard whispered," said she, "that they will soon be
looking for a minister to England, that Livingstone is coming back?"

"True, mother dear," and he rose to seat her comfortably. "But if you
can find us a chief-justice the good man will not need to come back. He
can remain to help keep patriots in English prisons."

"Why I want to make sure, you know, is that Vandervelt should get the
English mission this time without fail. I wouldn't have him miss it for
the whole world."

"There's your man," said Grahame.

"Better than the English mission, mother," Arthur said quickly, "would
be the chief-justiceship for so good a man as Vandervelt. If you can get
him to tell his friends he wants to be chief-justice, I can swear that
he will get one place or the other. I know which one he would prefer.
No, not the mission. That's for a few years, forgotten honors. The
other's for life, lasting honor. Oh, how Vandervelt must sigh for that
noble dais, the only throne in the Republic, the throne of American
justice. Think, how Livingstone would defile it! The hater and
persecutor of a wronged and hounded race, who begrudges us all but the
honors of slavery, how could he understand and administer justice, eve