“In the next place, it is understood, is it, that you won’t make it any easier than you can possibly help for the North and West Side companies to get ordinances extending their lines, or anything else, from now on? I shall want to introduce some franchises for feeders and outlying lines myself.” “Bring in your ordinances,” replied McKenty, “and I’ll do whatever you say. I’ve worked with you before. I know that you keep your word.” “Thanks,” said Cowperwood, warmly. “I know the value of keeping it. In the mean while I’ll go ahead and see what can be done about the other matter. I don’t know just how many men I will need to let in on this, or just what form the organization will take. But you may depend upon it that your interests will be properly taken care of, and that whatever is done will be done with your full knowledge and consent.” “All very good,” answered McKenty, thinking of the new field of activity before them. A combination between himself and Cowperwood in a matter like this must prove very beneficial to both. And he was satisfied, because of their previous relations, that his own interests would not be neglected. “Shall we go and see if we can find the ladies?” asked Cowperwood, jauntily, laying hold of the politician’s arm. “To be sure,” assented McKenty, gaily. “It’s a fine house you have here—beautiful. And your wife is as pretty a woman as I ever saw, if you’ll pardon the familiarity.” “I have always thought she was rather attractive myself,” replied Cowperwood, innocently. CHAPTER XXII. Street-railways at Last Among the directors of the North Chicago City company there was one man, Edwin L. Kaffrath, who was young and of a forward-looking temperament. His father, a former heavy stockholder of this company, had recently died and left all his holdings and practically his directorship to his only son. Young Kaffrath was by no means a practical street-railway man, though he fancied he could do very well at it if given a chance. He was the holder of nearly eight hundred of the five thousand shares of stock; but the rest of it was so divided that he could only exercise a minor influence. Nevertheless, from the day of his entrance into the company—which was months before Cowperwood began seriously to think over the situation—he had been strong for improvements—extensions, more franchises, better cars, better horses, stoves in the cars in winter, and the like, all of which suggestions sounded to his fellow-directors like mere manifestations of the reckless impetuosity of youth, and were almost uniformly opposed. “What’s the matter with them cars?” asked Albert Thorsen, one of the elder directors, at one of the meetings at which Kaffrath was present and offering his usual protest. “I don’t see anything the matter with ’em. I ride in em.”