VAN ASTEN'S VISITOR
"UNLESS it stops snowing pretty soon, I think I'll not go to Boston to-night, after all," said young Van Asten, of the law firm of Hipp & Van Asten. He stood looking out a thirteenth-story window, late one December afternoon, watching the big storm which had increased steadily in violence since one o'clock. His hat was tilted on the back of his head and his overcoat collar was turned up about his ears. Keen, quick, and clear-cut, his features showed handsomely in profile. He was the popular member of the firm among his affluent clientele.
"Looks like a blizzard," said the clerk, rummaging in a pasteboard letter-holder.
"Sure. The midnight train is sure either to be stalled or delayed, and I can go on Saturday just as well. I don't care to sit up for hours in a snow-bank." Then he turned suddenly to the clerk. "Say, has anybody from Selvig's been in to-day?" he asked.
"You mean about the Drellmont will case?"
"Yes. By the way young Drellmont spoke yesterday, I rather expect he's getting ready to compromise. He's a fool if he doesn't; and a bigger fool to expect me to show him the will, too!"
"Nobody's been in," said the clerk laconically.
Van Asten went out and plowed his way through
