So Amos and Kite found Wint amiably glad to see them both. Amos sat on the broad window ledge, his back to the light, his face somewhat shadowed. Wint made Kite sit down near his desk; he himself tilted his chair back against one of the leaves of the desk, and put his feet on an open drawer, and asked what their errand was. “Kite wanted to see you,” said Amos. “Asked me to come along.” “No need of that, Kite.” Wint said good-naturedly. “I don’t keep an office boy. Anybody can see me any time.” Kite shifted uneasily in his seat, not quite sure what he meant to say. Amos prompted him from the window. “Kite don’t think you ought to shut down on him,” he said. Wint looked surprised. “Shut down on him? What’s the idea, Kite?” Kite said, in a flustered way: “It’s not so personal as that. You know, I’m by conviction a believer in the sale of liquor. I believe the people of Hardiston agree with me. I’m sorry to hear you’ve taken steps to stop the sale.” “Why, no,” said Wint cheerfully, “the town voted against it. I had nothing to do with that. I’m just enforcing the law.” Kite smiled weakly. “There are laws, and laws,” he said. “Some laws are not meant to be enforced. The people of Hardiston objected to the open saloon; they did not object to the unobtrusive and inoffensive sale.” “Oh!” said Wint. “You didn’t object to it yourself,” Kite reminded him. “Isn’t that so?” He expected Wint to be confused; but Wint only laughed. “I should say I didn’t,” he admitted. “I liked it as well as any one. Same time, this isn’t a question of liking; it’s a question of the law.” He leaned forward with a certain jeering earnestness in his voice. “Why, Mr. Kite, if I didn’t enforce the law, Hardiston people could remove me for misfeasance in office, or something like that.” Kite said: “Bosh!” impatiently. And Wint asked him suddenly: “What’s your interest in this?” “That of a citizen.” “Oh, I know you don’t sell it yourself,” said Wint, meaning just the contrary. “But, Mr. Kite, if you have any friends in the business, tell them to get out of it. It’s dead, in Hardiston. Dead and gone.” Kite said weakly: “Amos and I came here to try and make you change your mind about that.” Wint looked at Amos. “That so?” he asked. “You think I ought to back down?” “‘Go it, wife; go it, b’ar,’” said Amos cheerfully. “That’s me.” “Not taking sides?” “No.” Kite explained: “Amos and I worked together to elect you, you know.” Wint eyed him blandly. “Well, I’m much obliged. But I don’t see what that has to do--” “You owe us some gratitude.” “I’m grateful.” “There’s a moral obligation.” Wint grinned. “Kite, I’m afraid you’re an Indian giver. I’m afraid you elected me, thinking you could use me. But I didn’t ask to be elected, so I don’t see--”