Austen smiled when he opened the letter, and with its businesslike contents there seemed to be wafted from it the perfume and suppliance of a September day in the Vale of the Blue.  From the window of his back office, looking across the railroad tracks, he could see Sawanec, pale in her winter garb against a pale winter sky, and there arose in him the old restless desire for the woods and fields which at times was almost irresistible.  His thoughts at length descending from the azure above Sawanec, his eyes fell again on Mr. Crewe’s typewritten words:  “It may be of interest to you that I am to deliver, on the 15th instant, and as the Chairman of the House Committee on National Affairs, a speech upon national policies which is the result of much thought, and which touches upon such material needs of our State as can be supplied by the Federal Government.”

Austen had a brief fancy, whimsical as it was, of going to hear him.  Mr. Crewe, as a type absolutely new to him, interested him.  He had followed the unusual and somewhat surprising career of the gentleman from Leith with some care, even to the extent of reading of Mr. Crewe’s activities in the State Tribunes which had been sent him.  Were such qualifications as Mr. Crewe possessed, he wondered, of a kind to sweep their possessor into high office?  Were industry, persistency, and a capacity for taking advantage of a fair wind sufficient?

Since his return from Pepper County, Austen Vane had never been to the State capital during a session, although it was common for young lawyers to have cases before the Legislature.  It would have been difficult to say why he did not take these cases, aside from the fact that they were not very remunerative.  On occasions gentlemen from different parts of the State, and some from outside of it who had certain favours to ask at the hands of the lawmaking body, had visited his back office and closed the door after them, and in the course of the conversation had referred to the relationship of the young lawyer to Hilary Vane.  At such times Austen would freely acknowledge the debt of gratitude he owed his father for being in the world—­and refer them politely to Mr. Hilary Vane himself.  In most cases they had followed his advice, wondering not a little at this isolated example of quixotism.

During the sessions, except for a day or two at week ends which were often occupied with conferences, the Honourable Hilary’s office was deserted; or rather, as we have seen, his headquarters were removed to room Number Seven in the Pelican Hotel at the capital.  Austen got many of the lay clients who came to see his father at such times; and—­without giving an exaggerated idea of his income—­it might be said that he was beginning to have what may be called a snug practice for a lawyer of his experience.  In other words, according to Mr. Tooting, who took an intense interest in the matter, “not wearing the collar” had been more of a financial success