undertook to remonstrate with the son of his old friend, Hilary Vane. The
young lawyer heard him respectfully. The cashiers of some of these
gentlemen, who were younger men, ventured to say--when out of hearing
--that they admired the championship of Mr. Mender, but it would never
do. To these, likewise, Austen listened good-naturedly enough, and did
not attempt to contradict them. Changing the angle of the sun-dial does
not affect the time of day.

It was not surprising that young Tom Gaylord, when he came back from New
York and heard of Austen's victory, should have rushed to his office and
congratulated him in a rough but hearty fashion. Even though Austen had
won a suit against the Gaylord Lumber Company, young Tom would have
congratulated him. Old Tom was a different matter. Old Tom, hobbling
along under the maples, squinted at Austen and held up his stick.

"Damn you, you're a lawyer, ain't you?" cried the old man.

Austen, well used to this kind of greeting from Mr. Gaylord, replied that
he didn't think himself much of one.

"Damn it, I say you are. Some day I may have use for you," said old Tom,
and walked on.

"No," said young Tom, afterwards, in explanation of this extraordinary
attitude of his father, "it isn't principle. He's had a row with the
Northeastern about lumber rates, and swears he'll live till he gets even
with 'em."

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