“All right. She has better vision, now, than I have. We owe you a great debt of gratitude for sending us to Dr. Tillotson.” “He's a wonder. He told me the other day that he is going to cure what is called split retina, which has never been done.” Quincy bethought himself of the message he had to deliver and made a hurried departure, first inviting the Doctor to dine with him the next day. On his return to the Beacon Street house, he found his father at home reading an evening paper. “Quincy, I see that you vetoed that railroad bill.” “Yes, I did. I saw no reason why public property should be given to a private corporation without compensation.” “The public would be compensated indirectly. I am a large stockholder in the railroad, and, to speak plainly, I drew that bill myself. I met Senator Downing and he says the bill will be passed over your veto.” “I cannot help that, father. I did my duty as I saw it. If the bill becomes a law without my signature, I cannot be blamed for future developments.” The Hon. Nathaniel dropped the subject. “Quincy, I have purchased a house in the country and shall go there in a few days. Won't you and your wife pay us a short visit?” “Certainly, we will. We are going to Fernborough for a few days and then will drop in on you, before we go to Nantucket.” By the look on his father's face Quincy knew that he was disappointed. The Hon. Nathaniel never liked “to play second fiddle.” Quincy hastened to rectify his mistake. “We can put it the other way round, just as well. We'll come and see you before we go to Fernborough.” “That will please me better, but, of course, you must not do it if your wife objects.” “She will not object. She is upstairs, now, with Maude. Of course, the girls are going.” “Yes, and I have invited Captain Hornaby, a very fine young man. But, I must retire. I have a case in court to-morrow.” Quincy found both commendation and criticism in the morning papers. His face wore its usual genial expression as he entered the elevator, and Robert's “good morning” was particularly cheerful. The Governor's first caller was Mr. Acton. “You see,” he began, “that your approval of the picketing bill is receiving universal condemnation.” “Hardly,” was the reply. “Two papers and the Governor sustain it and the labour press and unions are yet to be heard from.” “We shall endeavour to secure a repeal of the bill next year. In the meantime, we shall carry the matter to the courts.” “May the cause of truth and justice prevail in the end” was Quincy's comment, and Mr. Acton took his departure in an uncomfortable state of mind. The day wore away. At three o'clock a vote was taken in the Senate and the so-called Downing bill was passed over the veto. Not so, in the House, for one newspaper, read by nearly all the working men, had so strongly pointed out the nature of the “grab” proposed by the bill, that the State House was besieged by its opponents, and the veto was sustained by a narrow margin.