“That’s all right,” said Amos. “I wasn’t in a hurry. I’m hardly ever in any hurry. Things come, give them time.” The colloquialisms had fallen from his speech. Amos talked as well as any one when he chose; when he was with Hardiston folks, he talked as they talked. Routt was a college man. Routt fidgeted in his chair. He had always been somewhat afraid of Amos. He wondered what the Congressman wanted now, but Amos did not tell him. He just sat, staring at the fire, smoking. Like Gergue, Routt was driven to break the silence. “What did you want with me, Amos?” he asked. Amos spat into the fire. “Wanted to talk things over, Jack,” he said. “I’m going to Washington to-morrow.” “I’ve been expecting you’d go back.” “Well, I’m going.” Another silence, while Routt moved uneasily. At last he said: “You put Wint over, all right.” “Yes,” Amos agreed. “I put him over.” He looked at Routt then, with eyes unexpectedly keen. “Think he’ll make a good Mayor, do you?” “Well,” said Routt slowly, “he’ll be all right if he lets the booze alone.” Amos caught Routt’s eyes and held them commandingly. “Jack,” he said, “I want you to let Wint alone.” Routt asked angrily: “Me? What do you mean?” “I don’t want you giving him any advice, and I don’t want you getting him drunk. I want you to let him alone. Is that clear?” Routt protested: “I’m the best friend Wint’s got.” “You’re the worst enemy he’s got,” said Amos. “And you know it.” “You can’t say that,” Routt pleaded. Amos did not let go the other man’s eyes. “You got Wint drunk, day before election,” he said. “You got him drunk last night. Routt, don’t you do that again.” “I got him drunk? Good Lord, Congressman, Wint’s a grown man. I’m not his keeper.” “I made you his keeper, before election,” said Amos. “I told you to keep him straight. You didn’t do it. You got him drunk. Now I tell you, let him alone.” “I tried to keep him from drinking,” Routt urged. “You said to him, ‘Don’t you drink, Wint. It ain’t good for you. You can’t stand it.’ So he drank, to show you he could stand it. Just as you knew he would.” Amos got up with a swiftness surprising in that slow-moving man. He said harshly: “Routt, get your hat and get out. And mind what I say. You let Wint alone.” Some men would have sworn at Amos, some would have defied him. Routt was the sort to promise anything. He said, with an assumption of straightforward frankness: “Why, of course, if you say so, I’ll keep away from him.” “See that you do,” said Amos. “Now--good night.” When the door closed behind Routt, Amos stood for a minute in the hall, thinking. “Now I wonder,” he asked himself. “Will he do it? Was he scared enough to keep hands off? I wonder, now.” Routt, half a block away, was grinning without mirth. “Damn him,” he said to himself. “Him and Wint too. I’ll....” He wondered just what he had best do; and before he reached home, he had decided to go and see V. R. Kite. * * * * *