ents
happened to be clients of mine when I was practising law, and they've
both asked me about him and told me about him, inside of the last six
weeks."

Henry sat unblinking "Is that--a fact!"

"And if you wanted to sell out," continued the Judge, with a trifle of
asperity, "why on earth didn't you go to Bob Standish? Why didn't you
go to an expert? And why didn't you have an audit made of Mix's
company--why didn't you get a little information--why didn't you know
what you were buying? Oh, it isn't too late, if you haven't signed
anything, but--Henry, it looks to me as if you need a guardian!"

At the sight of his face, Anna went over to him, and perched on the
arm of his chair. "That's enough, Dad.... _I_'m his guardian; aren't
I, dear? And he's just upset and dizzy and I don't blame him a bit. We
won't say another word about it; we've told him what we think; and
tonight he can have a long talk with Bob. You'd want to do that,
wouldn't you, Henry? Of course you would. You wish you'd done it
before. You're feeling awfully ashamed of yourself for being so hasty.
_And_ snobbish. I know you."

Henry looked across at the Judge. "Might as well have my brains where
my hair is, mightn't I? She sees it just as easy.... All right; we'll
let the whole thing ride 'till I've seen Bob."

His friend Standish, gazing with childlike solemnity out of his big
blue eyes, listened to both sides of the story, and to Henry's
miscalculation, at no time during the recital did he laugh uproariously,
or exclaim compassionately, or indicate that he shared any of Henry's
conclusions:

"Oh, yes," he said, "people might giggle a bit. But they always giggle
at a man's first shot at business, anyway. Like his first pair of long
trousers. It's done. But how many times will they do it? A thousand?
Ten thousand? A hundred thousand? At maybe seven dollars a giggle? For
less than that, I'd be a comedian. I'd be a contortionist. I'd be a
pie-thrower. Henry, old rubbish, you do what they tell you to."

"Would you do it if you were in my place?"

"Would I lie down like a yellow dog, and let people say I hadn't sand
enough to stop a wristwatch?"

"I know, but Bob--the Orpheum!"

"I know, but Henry--don't you sort of owe it to Mr. Starkweather? You
wouldn't have put on this milk-fed expression if he'd soaked it to you
himself, would you?"

At this precise instant, Henry was required on the telephone. It was
his Aunt Mirabelle; and even if he had