“Good.  They say the succotash and peaches were all cooked in the same pot, and that our Uncle Mort did the skimming.”

“So they say; but believe me, I can attack him without doing violence to my professional conscience.  White River Canneries was never in the Boordman office to my knowledge.  This isn’t vengeance on my part; it’s my duty to get what I can for the estate.”

“Well, some of our farmers down my way got soaked in that deal, but it never seemed worth while to waste their money in litigation.  I’ll be glad to turn the claims I have in my office over to you; the more you have, the stronger fight you can make.”

“Good.  I welcome business.  I’m going to see if I can’t get to the bottom of the can.”

As a revolte Dan had attracted more attention than he liked, in all the circumstances.  Now that the legislature had adjourned, he was anxious to give his energy to the law, and he did not encourage political pilgrims to visit his office.  He felt that he had behaved generously toward his old chief when the end came, and the promptness with which Bassett’s old guard sought to impeach his motives in fighting the corporation bill angered him.  Threats of retaliation were conveyed to him from certain quarters; and from less violent sources he heard much of his ingratitude toward the man who had “made” him.  He had failed in his efforts to secure the passage of several measures whose enactment was urged by the educational and philanthropic interests of the community, and this was plainly attributable to the animosity aroused by his desertion of the corporation bill.  He had not finished with this last measure, which had been passed by Bassett’s bi-partisan combination over the governor’s veto.  The labor organizations were in arms against it and had engaged Dan to attack it in the courts.

* * * * *

Sylvia’s approval of his course had been as cordial as he could have asked, and as the spring advanced they were much together.  They attended concerts, the theatre, and lectures, as often as she had time for relaxation, and they met pretty regularly at Mrs. Owen’s dinner table on Sunday—­often running out for long tramps in the country afterward, to return for supper, and a renewal of their triangular councils.  The Bassetts were to continue at the Bosworth house until June, and when Marian dashed in upon these Sunday symposiums—­sometimes with a young cavalier she had taken out for a promenade—­she gave Dan to understand that his difficulties with her father made not the slightest difference to her.

“But, mama!” She spoke of her mother as of one whose views must not weigh heavily against the world’s general good cheer—­“mama says she never trusted you; that there was just that something about you that didn’t seem quite—­” Marian would shake her head and sigh suggestively, whereupon Mrs. Owen would rebuke her and send her off to find the candy in the sideboard.