“Do you believe you and I could get along, Judge? How long do you think it would last?” “I've considered that some,” answered the Honourable Hilary, “but I won't last a great while longer myself.” “You're as sound as a bronco,” declared Austen, patting him. “I never was what you might call dissipated,” agreed Mr. Vane, “but men don't go on forever. I've worked hard all my life, and got where I am, and I've always thought I'd like to hand it on to you. It's a position of honour and trust, Austen, and one of which any lawyer might be proud.” “My ambition hasn't run in exactly that channel,” said his son. “Didn't know as you had any precise ambition,” responded the Honourable Hilary, “but I never heard of a man refusing to be chief counsel for a great railroad. I don't say you can be, mind, but I say with work and brains it's as easy for the son of Hilary Vane as for anybody else.” “I don't know much about the duties of such a position,” said Austen, laughing, “but at all events I shall have time to make up my mind how to answer Mr. Flint when he comes to me with the proposal. To speak frankly, Judge, I hadn't thought of spending the whole of what might otherwise prove a brilliant life in Ripton.” The Honourable Hilary smiled again, and then he grunted. “I tell you what I'll do,” he said; “you come in with me and agree to stay five years. If you've done well for yourself, and want to go to New York or some large place at the end of that time, I won't hinder you. But I feel it my duty to say, if you don't accept my offer, no son of mine shall inherit what I've laid up by hard labour. It's against American doctrine, and it's against my principles. You can go back to Pepper County and get put in jail, but you can't say I haven't warned you fairly.” “You ought to leave your fortune to the railroad, Judge,” said Austen. “Generations to come would bless your name if you put up a new station in Ripton and built bridges over Bunker Hill grade crossing and the other one on Heath Street where Nic Adams was killed last month. I shouldn't begrudge a cent of the money.” “I suppose I was a fool to talk to you,” said the Honourable Hilary, getting up. But his son pushed him down again into the Windsor chair. “Hold on, Judge,” he said, “that was just my way of saying if I accepted your offer, it wouldn't be because I yearned after the money. Thinking of it has never kept me awake nights. Now if you'll allow me to take a few days once in a while to let off steam, I'll make a counter proposal, in the nature of a compromise.” “What's that?” the Honourable Hilary demanded suspiciously. “Provided I get admitted to the bar I will take a room in another part of this building and pick up what crumbs of practice I can by myself. Of course, sir, I realize that these, if they come at all, will be owing to the lustre of your name. But I should, before I become Mr. Flint's right-hand man, like to learn to walk with my own legs.”