seasons when it reigns; and then it is unseated for time by the
assertion of the keen senses.

Billy Keogh and Johnny seemed to conceive a mutual friendship at
once. Keogh took the new consul about town and presented him to the
handful of Americans and the smaller number of French and Germans who
made up the "foreign" contingent. And then, of course, he had to be
more formally introduced to the native officials, and have his
credentials transmitted through an interpreter.

There was something about the young Southerner that the sophisticated
Keogh liked. His manner was simple almost to boyishness; but he
possessed the cool carelessness of a man of far greater age and
experience. Neither uniforms nor titles, red tape nor foreign
languages, mountains nor sea weighed upon his spirits. He was heir
to all ages, an Atwood, of Dalesburg; and you might know every
thought conceived to his bosom.

Geddie came down to the consulate to explain the duties and workings
of the office. He and Keogh tried to interest the new consul in
their description of the work that his government expected him to
perform.

"It's all right," said Johnnie from the hammock that he had set up as
the official reclining place. "If anything turns up that has to be
done I'll let you fellows do it. You can't expect a Democrat to work
during his first term of holding office."

"You might look over these headings," suggested Geddie, "of the
different lines of exports you will have to keep account of. The