h like it. I haven't ever seen Miss Ellen so interested. I
hope the walk home didn't fatigue her. I wanted to get a cab, but she
would walk." The judge kept moving on, with his head down. He did not
speak, and Bittridge was forced to notice his silence. "Nothing the
matter, I hope, with Miss Ellen, judge?"

"Go away," said the judge, in a low voice, fumbling the head of his
stick.

"Why, what's up?" asked Bittridge, and he managed to get in front of
Kenton and stay him at a point where Kenton could not escape. It was a
corner of the room to which the old man had aimlessly tended, with no
purpose but to avoid him:

"I wish you to let me alone, sir," said Kenton at last. "I can't speak
to you."

"I understand what you mean, judge," said Bittridge, with a grin, all
the more maddening because it seemed involuntary. "But I can explain
everything. I just want a few words with you. It's very important; it's
life or death with me, sir," he said, trying to look grave. "Will you
let me go to your rooms with you?"

Kenton made no reply.

Bittridge began to laugh. "Then let's sit down here, or in the ladies'
parlor. It won't take me two minutes to make everything right. If you
don't believe I'm in earnest I know you don't think I am, but I can
assure you--Will you let me speak with you about Miss Ellen?"

Still Kenton did not answer, shutting his lips tight, and remembering
his promise to his wife.

Bittridge laughed, as if in amusement at what he had done. "Judge, let
me say two words to you in private! If you can't now, tell me when you
can. We're going back this evening, mother and I are; she isn't well,
and I'm not going to take her to Washington. I don't want to go leaving
you with the idea that I wanted to insult Miss Ellen. I care too much
for her. I want to see you and Mrs. Kenton about it. I do, indeed. And
won't you let me see you, somewhere?"

Kenton looked away, first to one side and then to another, and seemed
stifling.

"Won't you speak to me! Won't you answer me? See here! I'd get down on
my knees to you if it would do you any good. Where will you talk with
me?"

"Nowhere!" shouted Kenton. "Will you go away, or shall I strike you with
my stick?"

"Oh, I don't think," said Bittridge, and suddenly, in the wantonness of
his baffled effrontery, he raised his hand and rubbed the back of it in
the old man's face.

Boyne Kenton struck wildly at him, and Bittridge caught the boy by the
arm and flung him to