he natural belief that a boy who had
changed the course of his life in a five-minute interview would do
something equally spectacular next, and if the Judge, who had said to
him at last, "Well, it's my bad morning, son, and your good morning, so
you get your way, but you're climbing on a sinking ship, and remember I
told you so. And I'll tell you something else. It will be poor pickings
here for all of us, and I'm sorry, but I'm the sorriest for you," was
inclined to follow him furtively over the top of his spectacles with a
look that held all the pathetic apology of age to youth in his kind,
near-sighted eyes, this was only at first.

Colonel Everard, returning a few weeks later from one of his sudden,
unexplained absences from town, and making an early morning visit to his
attorney, was admitted by a young man whom he recognized, but pretended
not to.

"Who are you?" he inquired, "the office boy?"

"Just about that, sir," the young man admitted, as if he had no higher
ambition, but the Judge, entering the room with more evidence of
beginning the day with the strength that the day required, than he had
been showing lately in his carriage and look, put a casual hand on the
boy's shoulder, and kept it there.

"The last time we discussed enlarging my office force, you didn't
advocate it, Everard," he said rather formally.

"So you aren't discussing it with me now?"

"Do you think you'd better discuss it?"

"Do you?"

"I think you are in no position to discuss it. You've been recently
furnished with much more important material to discuss. I haven't seen
you since your garden party, have I?"

"No." Both men seemed to have forgotten the boy's existence, but now the
Colonel recalled it, and apparently without annoyance, and flashed a
disarming smile at him, giving up gracefully, as he always did if he was
forced to give up at all. "Well, you're right, Hugh. You're always
right. Do as you please. But this boy's got a temper of his own
and--quite a flow of speech. Runs in his family, evidently. Properly
handled, these are assets, but----"

"I'm sorry, sir," Neil found himself stammering. "I shouldn't have
spoken to you as I did that day. I'm sorry."

"Next time be sure of your facts." The voice was friendly, almost
paternal, but it held an insidious challenge, too, and for one betraying
moment all the native antagonism that was really there flashed in the
Colonel's eyes. Few enemies of his had been permitted to s