Irons
came in with a look on his face which secretly enraged the artist, who
was almost rude in the coldness of his greeting, although the caller
only grinned at this evidence of his host's irritation.
"Well, Fenton," he said, with bluff abruptness, "I suppose it is time
for us to square accounts, isn't it?"
"I was not aware that we had any accounts to square," the other
returned, with his most icy manner.
Irons laughed, and looked about the studio.
"That's your new picture, I suppose" he observed, settling himself back
in his chair, with the determined mien of a man who recognizes the fact
that he has a battle to fight, but is perfectly willing to join the
fray.
The significance of his air, as he nodded toward the big canvas on the
easel, so plainly brought up the unfortunate hold which the _Fatima_
had given Irons over the artist, that Fenton flushed in spite of
himself.
"It is a picture," he returned; "and it is unfinished."
Irons chuckled.
"Very well," he said. "We won't fence. I thought you might be
interested to know that we've got our railroad business into first-rate
shape; and there's no doubt that the Wachusett route will carry the
day. I tell you we had a hot time in the Senate yesterday," he went on,
warming with the excitement of his subject. "We made a pretty stiff
fight in the Railroad Committee to get them to report 'not expedient'
on the Feltonville petition.
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