was in this town! Sink the small personal equation in the large interests of humanity, touch reprovingly the pocket that had been unrighteously filled—and how the whole pack was upon one, frightened for its privileges, yelling Cad! Cad! But even with his lofty recognition of the ludicrous behavior of these people, Stewart could not be wholly indifferent to their coldness; he desired always the respect of those whom he despised. In spite of the evidence that he had already had, he could not believe that he was regarded by many persons as the opprobrious creature of Bob Dunbar's definition; and without lingering over his luncheon, he passed slowly through the club, pausing to test each man whom he met. He felt in every case a lack of cordiality. Dunbar had hardly overstated the facts; Stewart's letter was everywhere the topic of discussion; those who had read it had been showing it to those who had not, and there was but one opinion as to the propriety of the performance.
It was not only in the club that Stewart was made aware of the altered sentiment with which those who had been his friends regarded him. He received some letters that seemed to him offensively pragmatical and officious; his manner grew less and less conciliatory. His second letter was published in the Eagle—under a sneering title of the editor's own application; Stewart began now to take a grim satisfaction in the odds that were against him. There was nothing nobler than to wage a fight for a principle at the expense of one's personal associations and ambitions; and if Stewart's first devotion of himself to the cause had not included crucifixion for caddishness, he soon was ready to push self-sacrifice even beyond that extreme. For though the wound was sore, the compensation for it was immediate. He had but to go on that first afternoon from the inhospitable club to the headquarters of the executive committee at New Rome to be assured of his true value. There indeed his services were appreciated. Stewart began to see that it is the judgment of
