"That's the one. It's going to be in the Legislature. There's going to be an attempt to change the route." "Change the route?" "Yes, so it will go through--but will you promise not to tell this to a living mortal?" "Of course." "I suppose," she said, regarding her slipper intently, "that I really ought not to tell you; but I can't help it somehow. Your name is to be used." "My name?" "Yes, the men who are planning the thing say that it will be so evident that you'd want the road to go this new way, that if you vote with the Wachusett interest they'll swear you are bought." "Swear I'm bought? Pooh! Tom Greenfield is too well known for that sort of talk to hold water." "But through your own town"-- Mrs. Sampson regarded her companion closely as she slowly pronounced these words. They roused him like an electric shock. "Through Feltonville?" She nodded, compressing her lips, but saying nothing. "Phew! This is a tough nut to crack. But are you sure that is to be tried?" "Yes; there is a scheme for a few monopolists to buy up mill privileges and run factories at Feltonville; and they mean to make the road serve them, instead of its being put where the public need it." "So that's what Lincoln's been raking up in Boston," Greenfield said to himself. "I knew he was up to some deviltry. Wants to sell off those meadows he's been gathering in on mortgages." "Of course you'll want to help your town," Mrs. Sampson said, regretfully. "The men that voted for you'll expect you to do it; but it's helping on a sly scheme at the expense of the state. I'm sorry you've got to be on that side." "Got to be on that side?" he retorted, starting up. "Who says I've got to be on that side? we'll see about that before we get through. The men that voted for me expect me to do what is right, and I don't think they'll be disappointed just yet." And all things considered, Mrs. Amanda Welsh Sampson thought she had done a good evening's work. XVI WEIGHING DELIGHT AND DOLE. Hamlet; i.--2. "Oh, this is completely captivating," Mrs. Frostwinch said, as she sat down to luncheon in Edith Fenton's pretty dining-room, and looked at the large mound-like bouquet of richly tinted spring leaves which adorned the centre of the table. "That is the advantage of having brains. One always finds some delightful surprise or other at your house." "Thank you," Edith returned, gayly; "but at your house one always has a delightful surprise in the hostess, so you are not forced to resort to makeshifts." Helen Greyson, the third member of the party, smiled and shook her head. "Really," she said, "is one expected to keep up to the level of elaborate compliment like that? I fear I can only sit by in admiring silence while you two go on." "Oh, no," the hostess responded. "Mrs. Frostwinch is to talk to you. That is what you people are here for. I am only to listen."