Judge Elkhorn was a bright man in many regards, and had had an ambition to electrify the world with a theory which would give a new basis for action in reforms; but in dealing with such a case as this, he had certain serious limitations. For he prided himself on never going beyond the common-sense recognition of objects which he could taste, touch, feel, smell and see. But here was Reginald with the common-sense plane of mind (that is, the plane of mind on which practical people live externally and meet each other) terribly damaged, and with three out of five sense-avenues to knowledge, shut up. And yet Miss Ethelbert claimed he was living in a rather select sort of world of his own, after a tranquil fashion; not devoid of certain startling gleams of intelligence, nay, wisdom. But as for an unseen world, and “an education beyond the grave,” Judge Elkhorn was pleased to say, “he hoped he had left all faith in that sort of thing along with fear of spooks and the dark.” He was willing to call Reginald’s state “a curious phenomenon.” For the rest, he would have liked to have relegated this man to the obscurity of some asylum. For if he disliked Reginald when he was well (?) and obtrusively at home on Ethelbert’s balcony the day they first met, he disliked him vastly more now that he, as a child, was ensconced on Ethelbert’s attention. Judge Elkhorn thought the whole thing preposterous; and notwithstanding his fine humanitarian theories for helping misery in the mass, he would have liked to take prompt steps to hinder its being served up in individual cases, in polite society. He quite laid down the law on this subject to Miss Daksha, and interposed his particular likes and dislikes as if they were the code of the Medes and Persians. Ethel let him proceed. But she held to her faith in the final rehabilitation of Reginald, and expressed it. So, in language of his own, Judge Elkhorn at last reassured her that her concern for this case was really unfitting. “Who being judge?” said she. “I shall have to be judge of your conduct, if you desire to retain my friendship and respect.” “But that is _not_ my desire. My desire is to get Reginald Grove well,” she said quietly, holding Judge Elkhorn steady in the light of her self-directing intelligence, until, without more words, he himself saw that he had supposed her general friendliness for him was identified with an enfeebling dependence on his approbation. Then— “Mrs. Mancredo, what will _you_ do for this man?” Ethel cheerily asked. “What can I do?”