uccessful life before her-- Besides,
don't we all stand ready to do her fighting for her?"

Though the night was cool, the doctor took off his hat and wiped his
forehead. He looked up once as though he were about to speak, but in
the end he only put his hat back on his head, nodded, and went his way,
his quick, light, uneven tread waking a faint echo in the empty street.

As the Judge let himself in at the front door, a murmur of voices from
the brightly-lighted parlor struck gratefully on his ear. He was not too
late. "How are you, Hollister?" he called as he pulled off his overcoat.
"Glad to see you back. Let's hear all about the Urbana experience."

Hollister's dramatic interest in each engagement of his battle for
success was infectious. Those who knew him, whether they liked him or
not, waited for news of the results of his latest skirmish as they
waited for the installments of an exciting serial story.

As the older man entered, the tall, quick-moving young fellow came over
to the door and shook his hand with energy. The Judge reflected that
nobody but Hollister could so convey the effect that he was being made
kindly welcome in his own house; but he did not dislike this vigor of
personality. He sat down on the chair which his young guest indicated as
a suitable one, and rubbed his chin, smiling at his daughter. "Dr.
Melton sent his love to you, but he wouldn't come in."

Paul looked brightly at Lydia. "I should hope not! My first evening with
her! To share it with anybody! Except her father, of course!" He added
the last as an afterthought, more with the air of putting the Judge at
his ease than of excusing himself for an ungraceful slip of the tongue.

The Judge laughed, restraining an impulse to call out, "You're a wonder,
young man!" and said instead, "Well, let's hear the news."

Lydia said nothing, but her aspect, always vividly expressive of her
mood, struck her father as odd. As he glanced at her from time to time
during the ready, spirited narrative of the young "captain in the army
of electricity," as he had once called himself, Lydia's father felt a
qualm of uneasiness. Her lips were very red and a little open, as though
she were breathless from some exertion, and a deep flush stained her
cheeks. She looked at Paul while he talked animatedly to her father, but
when he addressed himself to her she looked down or away, meeting her
father's eyes with a curious effect of not seeing him at all. The Judg