"Dr. Tredway tells me you are getting along finely," he said.
"No thanks to the railrud," answered Mr. Meader; "they done their best."
"Did you hear any whistle or any bell?" Austen asked.
"Not a sound," said Mr. Meader; "they even shut off their steam on that grade."
Austen Vane, like most men who are really capable of a deep sympathy, was not an adept at expressing it verbally. Moreover, he knew enough of his fellow-men to realize that a Puritan farmer would be suspicious of sympathy. The man had been near to death himself, was compelled to spend part of the summer, his bread-earning season, in a hospital, and yet no appeal or word of complaint had crossed his lips.
"Mr. Meader," said Austen, "I came over here to tell you that in my opinion you are entitled to heavy damages from the railroad, and to advise you not to accept a compromise. They will send some one to you and offer you a sum far below that which you ought in justice to receive, You ought to fight this case."
"How am I going to pay a lawyer, with a mortgage on my farm?" demanded
Mr. Meader.
"I'm a lawyer," said Austen, "and if you'll take me, I'll defend you without charge."
"Ain't you the son of Hilary Vane?"
"Yes."