"_Drunk!!_" Widow Adams had to grab wildly at a chair, sinking into it; at first as limp as a rag, but instantly springing up, blood surging to a throbbing brow. "_Drunk!_ _Drunk!!_ _My_ baby drunk!! Tom, I thank you for trying to ward off this shock; but I'll say right now, _with my hand on high_, that I am going to start a rumpus about this atrocity that will rock Branton Hills to its foundations! Who _got_ this young school-girl drunk? I know that Virginia wouldn't drink that stuff willingly. How _could_ it occur? I pay through taxation for a patrolman in this district; in fact in _all_ districts of this city. What is a patrolman for, if not to watch for just such abominations as this, pray?" Dr. Wilkins didn't say, though probably thinking of a rumor that had run around town for a month or two. At this point Virginia, partly conscious, was murmuring:-- "Oh, Norman! _Don't!!_ I _can't_ drink it! Oh! I'm _so_ sick!!" This brought forth all of Nina Adams' fury instantly. "_Aha! Aha! Norman!_ So _that's_ it! That's Norman Antor, that low-down, good-for-nothing night-owl! Son of our big Councilman Antor. So!! It's 'Norman! I can't drink it'! Tom Wilkins, this thing is going to _court!!_" * * * * * About noon of that day, our good doctor, walking sadly along, ran across Mayor Gadsby, in front of City Hall; and did His Honor "_burn_" at such an abomination? "_What?_ High School boys _forcing_ young girls to drink? And right in our glorious Branton Hills? Oh, but, Doc! This can't pass without a trial!" "That's all right, John; but a thorn sticks out, right in plain sight." "Thorn? Thorn? What kind of a thorn?" and our Mayor was flushing hard, as no kind of wild thoughts would point to any kind of thorns. "That thorn," said Wilkins, "is young Norman Antor; son of----" "_Not of Councilman Antor?_" "I am sorry to say that it is so," and Wilkins told of Virginia's half-conscious murmurings. "And Nina wants to know why, with a patrolman in all parts of town, it isn't known that all this drinking is going on. I didn't say what I thought, but you know that a patrolman don't go into dancing pavilions and night clubs until conditions sanction it." "Who is supplying this liquor?" "Councilman Antor; but without knowing it." All His Honor could say was to gasp:-- "How do you know that, Doc?" and Wilkins told of four calls for him in four days, to young girls, similarly drunk. "And my _first_ call was to young Mary--Antor's tiny Grammar School kid, who was as drunk as Virginia; but, on coming out of it, told of robbing Antor's pantry, in which liquor was always on hand for his political pals, you know; that poor kid taking it to various affairs and giving it to boys; and winning 'popularity' that way."