and therefore, men."

"Uncle, you're very nearly rude."

"I apologise," replied her uncle hastily. "But now, Bessie, my dear
girl, seriously, as to this case, you must understand that I cannot
interfere. The Bank--hem--the Bank is a great National--"

Miss Bessie saw that the Guards were being called upon. She hastened to
bring up her reserves. "I know, Uncle, I know! I wouldn't for the world
say a word against the Bank, but you see the case against the lad is at
least doubtful."

"I was going on to observe," resumed her uncle, judicially, "that the
Bank--"

"Don't misunderstand me, Uncle," cried his niece, realising that she had
reached a moment of crisis. "You know I would not for a moment
presume to interfere with the Bank, but"--here she deployed her whole
force,--"the lad's youth and folly; his previous good character,
guaranteed by Dunn, who knows men; his glorious game--no man who wasn't
straight could play such a game!--the large chance of his innocence, the
small chance of his guilt; the hide-bound rigidity of lawyers and bank
managers, dominated by mere rules and routine, in contrast with the
open-minded independence of her uncle; the boy's utter helplessness; his
own father having been ready to believe the worst,--just think of it,
Uncle, his own father thinking of himself and of his family name--much
he has ever done for his family name!--and not of his own boy,
and"--here Miss Brodie's voice took a lower key--"and his mother died
some five or six years ago, when he was thirteen or fourteen, and I
know, you know, that is hard on a boy." In spite of herself, and to her
disgust, a tremor came into her voice and a rush of tears to her eyes.

Her uncle was smitten with dismay. Only on one terrible occasion since
she had emerged from her teens had he seen his niece in tears. The
memory of that terrible day swept over his soul. Something desperate
was doing. Hard as the little man was to the world against which he had
fought his way to his present position of distinction, to his niece
he was soft-hearted as a mother. "There, there!" he exclaimed hastily.
"We'll give the boy a chance. No mother, eh? And a confounded prig for a
father! No wonder the boy goes all wrong!" Then with a sudden vehemence
he cried, striking one hand into the other, "No, by--! that is, we
will certainly give the lad the benefit of the doubt. Cheer up, lassie!
You've no need to look ashamed," for his niece was wiping her eyes
in manif