something, but he did
not look up. By Jove, how I wished that he were _really_ busy, so I
might slip out without danger of offending him! But I was afraid to
chance it--did so want to rub him right, don't you know, on account of
Frances. Knew he was still feeling a bit plucked over his slip of the
tongue--showed plainly he was bothered, you know; you could tell by his
puckered brows and the way he kept clearing his throat. So meantime,
knowing that the best thing was to appear unconscious--just give him
time, you know--I fell carelessly to jingling some coins in my pocket
and tapping my foot upon the hardwood, as I hummed a devilish neat
little air from _La Juive_ that I almost knew by heart:

"_Qu'il, l'apprenne de vous?
Helas, je vous implore, benissez mon epoux_--"

By Jove, I had just got that far, when he shook his head with a kind of
snort, threw down his pen, and got to his feet, facing me with a sickly
smile.

"I am going to ask you to excuse me, my dear Lightnut"--came right out
frankly like that, you know! "But the fact is--" he opened and shut his
watch--nervously, you know--"I have just realized how--"

But I stopped him--couldn't let him go on, of course: "Oh, I say, you
know! Not another word, my _dear_ Judge--I don't care a jolly hang, dash
it!" And to show him, I smiled, got out a cigarette, and perched kind of
sidewise on the edge of the table. "I'm not a bit sensitive, don't you
know!"

He stared. "Indeed, no--I see you are not!" he said warmly.

I drew a light a bit airily. "Of course," I puffed, "what _you_ are
thinking of is your servant, but I"--I shot him a light wink--"I've got
to think a little about my own affair, don't you--"

"_Lightnut!_" He caught me by the arms, his face reddened almost black.
"My _dear_ boy, ten thousand pardons! I assure you--"

"That's just all right, Judge," I reassured him soothingly. "All I am
holding out for is just to be sure we understand each other about
Frances--that I may be sure I have your authority--"

"So _that's_ it!" He relaxed with a deep breath. Then quietly: "My dear
boy, you make me ashamed of myself--I _was_ rude!" And he shook my hand.
"Yes, indeed--you just go right ahead; almost anything is preferable to
the vicious life Francis is leading--_anything_!" He sighed and his
voice dropped confidentially: "I'm afraid even you would be discouraged
if I told you of one or two disgraceful episodes at Cambridge--I _know_