That young man put away hat and stick, had his coat off, and was rolling back his shirt sleeves for a wash, humming the refrain of _Kentucky Babe_. Then, through a slow moment, the queer silence about him, Humphrey's attitude--that fact, for that matter, that Hump was here, at all; he was a great hand to work until six or after at the _Voice_ office--these things worked in on him like a premonition. The little song died out. He went on, a few steps, toward the bathroom, then came to a stop, turned toward the silent figure on the window-seat, came slowly over. Now he saw his friend clearly. As he sank on the arm of a chair--it was where he had sat the evening before--he caught his breath. 'Wha--what is it?' he asked. His voice was suddenly husky. His mind went blank. There was sensation among the roots of his hair. 'What's the matter, Hump?' Finally Humphrey took out his pipe and spoke. His voice, too, was low and uncertain. But he gathered control of it as he went on. 'Where've you been?' he asked. 'Me? Why, over at Rockwell Park. Bob McGibbon wanted me to see about a regular correspondent for the “Rockwell Park Doings.”' 'Heard anything?' 'Me? No. Why?... Hump, what is it? What you getting at?' 'Then I've got to tell you.' He swung his feet around; sat up; emptied his pipe, then filled it. 'Is it--is it--about me, Hump?' 'Yes. It is.' 'Well--then--hadn't you better tell me?' 'I'm trying to, Hen. It's dam' unpleasant. You remember--you told me once--early in the summer--' Humphrey, usually most direct, was having difficulty in getting it out--'you told me you rode a tandem up to Hoffmann's Garden with that little Wilcox girl.' 'Oh, that! That was nothing. Why all the time I lived at Mrs Wilcox's I never----' 'Yes, I know. Let me try to tell this, Hen. It's hard enough. She's in a scrape. That girl. There's a big row on. I'm not going into the details, so far as I've heard 'em. There ugly. They wouldn't help. But her mother's collapsed. Her uncle and aunt have turned up and taken the girl off somewhere. He's a butcher on the North Side.' Henry was pale but attentive. 'In all the time I lived there,' he began again... 'Please, Hen! Wait! It is one of those mean scandals that tear up a town like this every now and then. Boils up through the crust and has to be noticed. It's a beastly thing. The number of men involved... some older ones... and young Bancroft Widdicombe has left town. There's some queer talk about her marrying him. And they say one or two others have run away. Widdicombe got out before the storm broke. Jim Smith says he's been heard from at San Francisco.' 'But they can't say of me----' 'Hen, they can and they do.' 'But I can prove----' 'What can you prove? What chance will you have to prove anything? You were disturbed when Martha Caldwell and the party with Charles H. Merchant caught you with her up at Hoffmann's----'