“But I didn’t bring you here to-day, Bill, to talk about my political fortunes. What’s become of those Western Timber cases?”
“Those cases you asked me to get up against the Western Timber and Mineral Company?” said Desbrough with a curious change of voice.
“Wait,” said Helm. “My wife wants the baby.”
Desbrough waited. Helm disappeared with the carriage at the half-basement door; Mrs. Helm disappeared from the window. Affairs of state had to wait full ten minutes. Then Helm rejoined his friend with an expression of intense, if somewhat guilty, pleasure that gave the shrewd Attorney-General a clue to what had occurred within. Said Helm, with renewed vigor:
“What about those cases, Bill? You lazy pup! I’ve had to nag at you ever since we got in.”
“Haven’t I done all you asked?” laughed Desbrough.
“Yes—and done it well, Bill. But—how I have had to nag!”
“It’d ’a’ been better for you, if I hadn’t done so much. You’ve tried to set the world straight, George, in one term as governor.”
“You’re wrong there, old man,” replied Helm. “I’ve simply settled each question as it came up. It had to be settled one way or the other. I haven’t had time to do anything but just the things that were squarely put up to me to do.”
Desbrough’s shrug was admission that George had spoken exactly. “I don’t blame you, George,” said he. “But you see how it is. Didn’t I warn you?”