“But you don’t know that they have done anything?”

“They can shew it, in that case; and the object of this bill is to make them shew one thing or the other, by their answer.”

“And, dear Governor, how soon will they answer?”

“In forty days, Winnie, they must.”

Winnie drew a breath of patience and impatience, and went back to her seat.

But before the forty days were gone by, Winthrop came home one night and told Winnie he had got the answer; and smiled at her face of eagerness and pleasure.  Winnie thought his smiles were not very often, and welcomed every one.

“But it is not likely this answer will settle the question, Winnie,” he remarked.

“O no, I suppose not; but I want to know what they say.”

So they had supper; and after supper she watched while he sat reading it; as leaf after leaf was turned over, from the close-written and close-lying package in Winthrop’s hand to the array of pages that had already been turned back and lay loose piled on the table; while Winthrop’s pencil now and then made an admonitory note in the margin.  How his sister admired him! —­ and at last forgot the bill in studying the face of the bill-reader.  It was very little changed from its old wont; and what difference there might be, was not the effect of a business life.  The cool and invariable self-possession and self-command of the character had kept and promised to keep him himself, in the midst of these and any other concerns, however entangling or engrossing.  The change, if any, was traceable to somewhat else; or to somewhat else Winnie laid it, —­ though she would not have called it a change, but only an added touch of perfection.  She could not tell, as she looked, what that touch had done; if told, perhaps it might be, that it had added sweetness to the gravity and gravity to the sweetness that was there before.  How Winnie loved that broad brow, and the very hand it rested on!  All the well-known lines of calmness and strength about the face her eye went over and over again; she had quite forgotten Mr. Ryle; and she saw Winthrop folding up the voluminous “answer,” and she hardly cared to ask what was in it.  She watched the hands that were doing it. They seemed to speak his character, too; she thought they did; calmness and decision were in the very fingers.  Before her curiosity had recovered itself enough to speak, Mr. Herder came in.

They talked for awhile about other things; and then Winthrop told him of the answer.

“You have it!” cried the naturalist.  “And what do they say?”

’Nothing, fully and honestly.”

“Ah ha! —­ And do they grant —­ do they allow anything of your charges, that you made in your bill?”

“Yes —­ in a vague and unsatisfactory way, they do.”

“Vague —?” said the naturalist.

“Not open and clear.  But the other day in the street I was stopped by Mr. Brick —­”