“Why—­I greatly appreciate it, Mr. Crewe,” said Mr. Gray.

“I’m sure you do.  I’ve looked over your record, and I find you’ve had experience in State affairs, and that you are a successful and conservative business man.  That is the type we want—­eh?  Business men.  You’ve read over the bills I sent you by registered mail?”

“Ahem,” said Mr. Gray, “I’ve been a good deal occupied since election day, Mr. Crewe.”

“Read ’em,” said Mr. Crewe, “and I’ll call in on you at the state-house day after to-morrow at five o’clock promptly.  We’ll discuss ’em, Governor, and if, by the light of your legislative experience, you have any suggestions to make, I shall be glad to hear ’em.  Before putting the bills in their final shape I’ve taken the trouble to go over them with my friend, Mr. Flint—­our mutual friend, let us say.”

“I’ve had the pleasure of meeting Mr. Flint,” said Mr. Gray.  “I—­ahem —­can’t say that I know him intimately.”

Mr. Crewe looked at Mr. Gray in a manner which plainly indicated that he was not an infant.

“My relations with Mr. Flint and the Northeastern have been very pleasant,” said Mr. Crewe.  “I may say that I am somewhat of a practical railroad and business man myself.”

“We need such men,” said Mr. Gray.  “Why, how do you do, Cary?  How are the boys up in Wheeler?”

“Well, good-by, Governor.  See you day after to-morrow at five precisely,” said Mr. Crewe.

The next official call of Mr. Crewe was on the Speaker-to-be, Mr. Doby of Hale (for such matters are cut and dried), but any amount of pounding on Mr. Doby’s door (number seventy-five) brought no response.  Other rural members besides Mr. Crewe came and pounded on that door, and went away again; but Mr. Job Braden suddenly appeared from another part of the corridor, smiling benignly, and apparently not resenting the refusal of his previous offers of help.

“W—­want the Speaker?” he inquired.

Mr. Crewe acknowledged that he did.

“Ed only sleeps there,” said Mr. Braden.  “Guess you’ll find him in the Railroad-Room.”

“Railroad Room?”

“Hilary Vane’s, Number Seven.”  Mr. Braden took hold of the lapel of his fellow-townsman’s coat.  “Callated you didn’t know it all,” he said; “that’s the reason I come down—­so’s to help you some.”

Mr. Crewe, although he was not wont to take a second place, followed Mr. Braden down the stairs to the door next to the governor’s, where he pushed ahead of his guide, through the group about the doorway,—­none of whom, however, were attempting to enter.  They stared in some surprise at Mr. Crewe as he flung open the door without knocking, and slammed it behind him in Mr. Braden’s face.  But the bewilderment caused by this act of those without was as nothing to the astonishment of those within—­had Mr. Crewe but known it.  An oil painting of the prominent men gathered about the marble-topped table