Mr. Goodman had not been long in his study when a visitor was announced. The one who presently made his appearance was as unlike the benevolent and scrupulous gentleman who came here once to beg the manufacturer to become president of the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals――as unlike him, we repeat, as a man could possibly be. This man’s name was Fox; and verily there was something of his namesake about him. Explain it as we may, we do occasionally meet with human beings bearing a mysterious resemblance to some one of the lower animals; and if Mr. Fox could only have dwindled in size, then dropped on his hands and knees, we should have fired at him without a doubt, had we discovered him near our hen-roost of a moonlight night. “Glad to see you, Mr. Fox,” said Mr. Goodman, motioning to him to be seated. “I sent for you to talk about important business.” “At your service, sir,” replied the other, with a twinkle in his gray eye which pleased Daisy’s father; for it seemed to say, “I am ready for any kind of business.” “Very good,” said Mr. Goodman; then, after tapping his fingers a moment on the table: “Now, Mr. Fox, I would like you to proceed at once to Albany. Can you go?” Mr. Fox nodded. “Very good. And when you are there, sir, I wish you to exert yourself to the utmost to prevent the passage of a bill known as ‘The Bill for the protection of factory children.’” Here Mr. Fox blew his nose, which action caused his cunning eyes to sparkle more brightly. Then, having returned the handkerchief to his pocket, “Mr. Goodman,” he observed, “of course you are aware that it takes powder to shoot robins. Now, how much, sir, do you allow for this bird?” Mr. Goodman smiled; then, after writing something on a slip of paper, held it up before him. “Humph!” ejaculated Mr. Fox. “That sum may do――it may. But you must know, sir, that this legislature is not like the last one. This legislature”――here Mr. Fox himself smiled――“is affected with a rare complaint, which we gentlemen of the lobby facetiously call ‘Ten-Commandment fever’; and the weaker a man is with this complaint, the more it takes to operate on him.” “Then make it this.” And Mr. Goodman held up another slip with other figures marked on it. “Well, yes, I guess that’ll cure the worst case,” said Mr. Fox, grinning. “Good!” exclaimed Daisy’s father. “Then, sir, let us dismiss the subject and talk about something else――about a bill introduced by the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals, of which society I am president. It relates to chasing foxes.” “And this bill you _don’t_ want killed?” said Mr. Fox. “Precisely.” “Well, sir, how much are you willing to spend for that purpose?” Again Mr. Goodman held up a piece of paper. “Why, my stars!” cried the lobby-member, after glancing at the figures――“my stars! isn’t it as important a bill as the other?” “I won’t alter my figures,” replied Mr. Goodman. “But remember, sir, you are president of the So――”