Jerry laughed, and
interrupted: 'That's nonsense, reporters' nonsense. What I said was that
if the public thought I was fool enough to make it our enemy, the public
might be d---d (begging your honor's pardon).' Then everybody laughed.
'It's the bond holders, who want big dividends, that stand in the way of
the development of the country, that's what it is,' said he, as he sat
down, to those around him, but loud enough to be heard all over the room.
Mansfield asked the protection of the Court against these clap-trap
interruptions. The judge said it was altogether irregular, and Uncle
Jerry begged pardon. The reporters made this incident the one prominent
thing in the case that day."

"What a delightful Uncle Jerry it is!" said Carmen. "You'd better keep an
eye on him, Rodney; he'll be giving your money to that theological
seminary in Alabama."

"That reminds me," Henderson said, cooling down, "of a paragraph in The
Planet, the other day, about the amount of my gifts unknown to the
public. I showed it to Uncle Jerry, and he said, 'Yes, I mentioned it to
the editor; such things don't do any harm.'"

"I saw it, and wondered who started it," Carmen replied, wrinkling her
brows as if she had been a good deal perplexed about it.

"I thought," said Henderson, with a smile, "that it ought to be explained
to you."

"No," she said, reflectively; "you are liberal enough, goodness knows
--too liberal--but you are not a flat."

Henderson was in the habit of dropping in at the Eschelles' occasionally,
when he wanted to talk freely. He had no need to wear a mask with Carmen.
Her moral sense was tolerant and elastic, and feminine sympathy of this
sort is a grateful cushion. She admired Henderson, without thinking any
too well of the world in general, and she admired him for the qualities
that were most conformable to his inclination. It was no case of
hero-worship, to be sure, nor for tragedy; but then what a satisfaction
it must be to sweet Lady Macbeth, coiled up on her sofa, to feel that the
thane of Cawdor has some nerve!

The Hendersons had come back to Washington Square late in the autumn. It
is a merciful provision that one has an orderly and well-appointed home
to return to from the fatigues of the country. Margaret, at any rate, was
a little tired with the multiform excitements of her summer, and
experienced a feeling of relief when she crossed her own threshold and
entered into the freedom and quiet of her home. She w