k. He saw poor women and disconsolate men go into
the private room ahead of rich citizens, who seemed content to wait
their turn on the hard wooden chairs against the wall of the main
office. There was one incident in particular, when a well-dressed
gentleman of middle age paced impatiently for two mortal hours after
Shadrach had taken his card into the sanctum. When at last he had been
admitted, Mr. Richter whispered to Stephen his name. It was that of a
big railroad man from the East. The transom let out the true state of
affairs.

"See here, Callender," the Judge was heard to say, "you fellows don't
like me, and you wouldn't come here unless you had to. But when your
road gets in a tight place, you turn up and expect to walk in ahead of
my friends. No, sir, if you want to see me, you've got to wait."

Mr. Callender made some inaudible reply, "Money!" roared the Judge,
"take your money to Stetson, and see if you win your case."

Mr. Richter smiled at Stephen, as if in sheer happiness at this
vindication of an employer who had never seemed to him to need a
defence.

Stephen was greatly drawn toward this young German with the great scar
on his pleasant face. And he was itching to know about that scar.
Every day, after coming in from dinner, Richter lighted a great brown
meerschaum, and read the St. Louis 'Anzeiger' and the 'Westliche Post'.
Often he sang quietly to himself:

"Deutschlands Sohne
Laut ertone
Euer Vaterlandgesang.
Vaterland! Du Land des Ruhmes,
Weih' zu deines Heiligthumes
Hutern, uns and unser Schwert."

There were other songs, too. And some wonderful quality in the German's
voice gave you a thrill when you heard them, albeit you could not
understand the words. Richter never guessed how Stephen, with his eyes
on his book, used to drink in those airs. And presently he found out
that they were inspired.

The day that the railroad man called, and after he and the Judge had
gone out together, the ice was broken.

"You Americans from the North are a queer people, Mr. Brice," remarked
Mr. Richter, as he put on his coat. "You do not show your feelings. You
are ashamed. The Judge, at first I could not comprehend him--he would
scold and scold. But one day I see that his heart is warm, and since
then I love him. Have you ever eaten a German dinner, Mr. Brice? No?
Then you must come with me, now."

It was raining, the streets ankle-deep in mud