“What is beyond you?” she asked, knowing well enough what the answer would be. “The one thing that is always beyond me, Martha--what we are to do with William.” The mother had not yet been to breakfast, but she sat down and prepared to argue her son’s case. “Doesn’t it sometimes occur to you that possibly you may try to do too much?” “No,” said the judge firmly, knowing by sorrowful experience whereunto the argument would lead. “By some means--I don’t pretend to know how--the boy always manages to whitewash himself with you. But I am coming to know him better. We may as well face the fact first as last, Martha. He is thoroughly, utterly, recklessly bad. God forgive me that I should have it to say of the son for whom I am responsible!” But Mrs. Langford protested indignantly, as was her maternal privilege. “That is just where you are mistaken--in assuming that he is bad at heart. You don’t understand him at all, and sometimes I’m tempted to think you don’t want to. Are there no allowances to be made for youthful thoughtlessness?” “Youthful depravity, you would better say.” The judge left his chair and began to walk the floor. “Why don’t you call things by their right names? I should think this last affair would open your eyes, if nothing else has.” “Oh, I don’t know. Please sit down, Robert; you make me nervous. I had a long talk with him last night, and he told me everything without reserve. I know it was all wrong--his being in such a place--but it was rather foolish than intentionally wicked.” “You make a nice distinction,” said the judge, but the sorrow in his voice dulled the edge of the sarcasm. “What is his story?” “Why, just this. It seems that he has a friend--a Mr. Harding, a wealthy mine owner--and they went around together to see the sights, purely out of curiosity, William says, and I believe him. They just happened to be in this Draco place night before last; and when the police rushed in they took everybody, guilty and innocent. William says his friend tried to explain that they were only onlookers, but it was no use, and--well, we know the rest.” “Yes, rather better than I could wish. As a result of his curiosity, or this Mr. Harding’s, I find my son in the police station, charged with gambling.” “Of course, in such a case the charge would be made against everybody.” “As it should be. If William had been at home, instead of prowling about town with a disreputable companion----” Mrs. Langford raised deprecatory hands. “Wait and hear the sequel before you do the man an injustice. When Will went downtown last night, feeling desperate and discouraged enough to do anything, this Mr. Harding found him and insisted on his coming straight home--brought him home in a carriage, in fact. A bad man would not have done that.” The judge looked perplexed, as well he might. “Brought him home in a carriage, you say? Why, I thought--” But he did not add what he thought.