"I can, for the position is looking for me, and the only reason I haven't accepted it is that I mean to stay right here until full justice has been done my stenographer,--full justice, sir. If that young lady were to place this case in the hands of even a tolerable lawyer, yours wouldn't have a leg to stand on." "You don't mean she's going to law!" "It's what my wife says would serve you right; and I agree with her. Just let this community know that solely on the statements of a cur you kicked out of your own employ you had defamed that brave, honest girl, and there'd be a tempest about your head compared to which this riot was a zephyr." Allison's wrath was cooling now. He sank back in a chair and stared gloomily at the librarian. "Where is that" (gulp) "Elmendorf?" he finally asked. "In jail, I hope; in the gutter, the last time I heard of him, being pommelled by her brother. Major Cranston and Mr. Forrest are looking for him." "What do they want?" asked Allison, suspiciously. "Several things; one is to find out how much he will admit having told you, and how much to hold you solely responsible for." Allison fidgeted for a moment, and then turned again upon the librarian. "You mean to tell me that you think she's entirely good and honest and all that, do you?" "No. I told you I knew she was." "Well, then, what does it mean that Forrest is trying to hunt up or run down my witnesses?" "It simply means that he's a gentleman who intends to defend the girl whose name you have coupled with his." "Why don't he come to me? He hasn't been near my house since he came back," said Allison, in a tone of complaint. "He hasn't given me a chance to--fix things. Who was fool enough to tell him?" "You, principally, by your reception of him. He knew all about it before he came here to me. Of course he hasn't been to your house, and probably never will go there again. I wouldn't in his place." Allison pondered painfully awhile. "Well, I suppose this thing is beginning to get around the neighborhood?--people are talking about it?" he queried guardedly. "Beginning?" was the answer. "Lord, no! It began the day you shouted the whole business so that everybody in the library could hear. Of course people are talking, but not as loud as you did." "And you say she's down sick and can't see people. Of course if I've been--made a victim of in this matter by that fellow Elmendorf--why, damn him, he's been trying to make up to my own daughter! she had to order him out of the house,--of course I want to straighten things out. I withdraw my demand for her discharge, under the circumstances; and if I might send her a check--or something, in reason----" "You might, if you wanted to see how quick it would come back." "Why, hang it, Wells, what _should_ a man do? What can a man do?"