If Professor Brewer (Ripton’s most clear-sighted citizen) had made the statement that Hilary Vane—­away down in the bottom of his heart—­was secretly proud of his son, the professor would probably have lost his place on the school board, the water board, and the library committee.  The way the worldly-wise professor discovered the secret was this:  he had gone to Bradford to hear the case, for he had been a dear friend of Sarah Austen.  Two days later Hilary Vane saw the professor on his little porch, and lingered.  Mr. Brewer suspected why, led carefully up to the subject, and not being discouraged—­except by numerous grunts—­gave the father an account of the proceedings by no means unfavourable to the son.  Some people like paregoric; the Honourable Hilary took his without undue squirming, with no visible effects to Austen.

Life in the office continued, with one or two exceptions, the even tenor of its way.  Apparently, so far as the Honourable Hilary was concerned, his son had never been to Bradford.  But the Honourable Brush Bascom, when he came on mysterious business to call on the chief counsel, no longer sat on Austen’s table; this was true of other feudal lords and retainers:  of Mr. Nat Billings, who, by the way, did not file his draft after all.  Not that Mr. Billings wasn’t polite, but he indulged no longer in slow winks at the expense of the honourable Railroad Commission.

Perhaps the most curious result of the Meader case to be remarked in passing, was upon Mr. Hamilton Tooting.  Austen, except when he fled to the hills, was usually the last to leave the office, Mr. Tooting often the first.  But one evening Mr. Tooting waited until the force had gone, and entered Austen’s room with his hand outstretched.

“Put her there, Aust,” he said.

Austen put her there.

“I’ve been exercisin’ my thinker some the last few months,” observed Mr. Tooting, seating himself on the desk.

“Aren’t you afraid of nervous prostration, Ham?”

“Say,” exclaimed Mr. Tooting, with a vexed laugh, “why are you always jollying me?  You ain’t any older than I am.”

“I’m not as old, Ham.  I don’t begin to have your knowledge of the world.”

“Come off,” said Mr. Tooting, who didn’t know exactly how to take this compliment.  “I came in here to have a serious talk.  I’ve been thinking it over, and I don’t know but what you did right.”

“Well, Ham, if you don’t know, I don’t know how I am to convince you.”

“Hold on.  Don’t go twistin’ around that way—­you make me dizzy.”  He lowered his voice confidentially, although there was no one within five walls of them.  “I know the difference between a gold brick and a government bond, anyhow.  I believe bucking the railroad’s going to pay in a year or so.  I got on to it as soon as you did, I guess, but when a feller’s worn the collar as long as I have and has to live, it ain’t easy to cut loose—­you understand.”