“Don’t go, boys,” Mr. Bascom protested.  “Let me finish that story.”

Some of “the boys” seemed to regard this statement as humorous,—­more humorous, indeed, than the story itself.  And when it was finished they took their departure, a trifle awkwardly, led by Mr. Painter.

“They’re a little mite bashful,” said Mr. Botcher, apologetically.

“How many more of those bills have you got?” demanded Mr. Bascom, from the steam radiator, with characteristic directness.

“I put ’em all in this morning,” said Mr. Crewe, “but I have thought since of two or three other conditions which might be benefited by legislation.”

“Well,” said Mr. Bascom, kindly, “if you have any more I was going to suggest that you distribute ’em round among the boys.  That’s the way I do, and most folks don’t guess they’re your bills.  See?”

“What harm is there in that?” demanded Mr. Crewe.  “I’m not ashamed of ’em.”

“Brush was only lookin’ at it from the point of view of gettin’ ’em through,” honest Mr. Botcher put in, in stentorian tones.  “It doesn’t do for a new member to be thought a hog about legislation.”

Now the Honourable Jacob only meant this in the kindest manner, as we know, and to give inexperience a hint from well-intentioned experience.  On the other hand, Mr. Crewe had a dignity and a position to uphold.  He was a personality.  People who went too far with him were apt to be rebuked by a certain glassy quality in his eye, and this now caused the Honourable Jake to draw back perceptibly.

“I see no reason why a public-spirited man should be open to such an imputation,” said Mr. Crewe.

“Certainly not, certainly not,” said Mr. Botcher, in stentorian tones of apology, “I was only trying to give you a little friendly advice, but I may have put it too strong.  Brush and I—­I may as well be plain about it, Mr. Crewe—­have taken a liking to you.  Couldn’t help it, sir, sitting next to you as we do.  We take an interest in your career, and we don’t want you to make any mistakes.  Ain’t that about it, Brush?”

“That’s about it,” said Mr. Bascom.

Mr. Crewe was to big a man not to perceive and appreciate the sterling philanthropy which lay beneath the exteriors of his new friends, who scorned to flatter him.

“I understand the spirit in which your advice is given, gentlemen,” he replied magnanimously, “and I appreciate it.  We are all working for the same things, and we all believe that they must be brought about in the same practical way.  For instance, we know as practical men that the railroad pays a large tax in this State, and that property must take a hand—­a very considerable hand—­in legislation.  You gentlemen, as important factors in the Republican organization, are loyal to—­er—­that property, and perhaps for wholly desirable reasons cannot bring forward too many bills under your own names.  Whereas I—­”

At this point in Mr. Crewe’s remarks the Honourable Jacob Botcher was seized by an appalling coughing fit which threatened to break his arm-chair, probably owing to the fact that he had swallowed something which he had in his mouth the wrong way.  Mr. Bascom, assisted by Mr. Crewe, pounded him relentlessly on the back.