idered this.

"You have put me in the wrong, Judge," he replied after a little. "I made
that remark ironically. I I am afraid we cannot agree on the motive which
prompted me."

"Your conscience a little finer than your father's--is it?"

"No," said Austen, "I don't honestly think it is. I've thought a good
deal in the last few years about the difference in our ways of looking at
things. I believe that two men who try to be honest may conscientiously
differ. But I also believe that certain customs have gradually grown up
in railroad practice which are more or less to be deplored from the point
of view of the honour of the profession. I think they are not perhaps
--realized even by the eminent men in the law."

"Humph!" said the Honourable Hilary. But he did not press his son for the
enumeration of these customs. After all the years he had disapproved of
Austen's deeds it seemed strange indeed to be called to account by the
prodigal for his own. Could it be that this boy whom he had so often
chastised took a clearer view of practical morality than himself? It was
preposterous. But why the uneasiness of the past few years? Why had he
more than once during that period, for the first time in his life,
questioned a hitherto absolute satisfaction in his position of chief
counsel for the Northeastern Railroads? Why had he hesitated to initiate
his son into many of the so-called duties of a railroad lawyer? Austen
had never verbally arraigned those duties until to-night.

Contradictory as it may seem, irritating as it was to the Honourable
Hilary Vane, he experienced again the certain faint tingling of pride as
when Austen had given him the dispassionate account of the shooting of
Mr. Blodgett; and this tingling only served to stiffen Hilary Vane more
than ever. A lifelong habit of admitting nothing and a lifelong pride
made the acknowledgment of possible professional lapses for the benefit
of his employer not to be thought of. He therefore assumed the same
attitude as had Mr. Flint, and forced the burden of explanation upon
Austen, relying surely on the disinclination of his son to be specific.
And Austen, considering his relationship, could not be expected to fathom
these mental processes.

"See here, Judge," he said, greatly embarrassed by the real affection he
felt, "I don't want to seem like a prig and appear to be sitting in
judgment upon a man of your experience and position especially since I
have the honour to be