“It is none of my business, Antrim,” he began, “and I don’t know how you stand with the family, but it is a thousand pities to let that boy go to the devil without turning a hand to save him. I don’t half like the way you put it.” Antrim laughed again. “You must remember that while you’re hearing it for the first time, it is an old story with me. Besides, I shouldn’t have a ghost of a chance with him. He doesn’t like me, and I don’t like him. If I should try to interfere I’d simply get myself into hot water with all concerned.” “Just the same, something ought to be done,” Brant insisted. “I agree with you, but who is to do it? By Jove, I have an idea! Suppose you try your hand. Mrs. Langford wouldn’t thank you a little bit, because she would never admit the necessity; so far from it, she’d probably write you down in her black book. But the judge knows, and he’d be your friend for life.” Brant smiled rather grimly at the thought of his becoming a bearwarden for wayward youth, but he answered not a word; and presently their arrival at Mrs. Seeley’s put an end to the talk. Contrary to his custom, Brant did not read himself to sleep that night. In room of a book he took a problem to bed with him, lying awake far into the small hours to wrestle therewith. And the name of the problem was William Langford. CHAPTER VI A MOLEHILL LEVELLED FROM Brant’s first visit to the transplanted Southern mansion in the Highlands to the second was but a step, which he found easier to take after the talk with Antrim about the black sheep. After that, finding his welcome all that could be desired, he went often. The judge liked him because he took the trouble to inform himself on the subject of penology, which was the invalid’s hobby; Mrs. Langford was disposed to be gracious to him because of his kindness to Dorothy on the train; Isabel openly rejoiced in the acquisition of a critic who knew the difference between a work of art and a photograph; and Dorothy made him welcome for many reasons, most of which she kept under lock and key in the strong room of her heart. So there were not a few excursions across the river for Brant, and all went well until a certain Tuesday evening in late September--the Tuesday following that Sunday of picture measurings and lovers’ partings. Brant had reached the house in the Highlands rather later than usual, and found Dorothy alone with her father and mother. There were unmistakable signs of sorrow in Dorothy’s eyes; and when neither the judge nor Mrs. Langford seemed grateful for the company of their guest, Brant cut his visit short.