Howard had shared his father’s sentiment with regard to the old office, for then the sky was clear, but now a cloud had come the atmosphere was changed. And on his way home to dinner, after a day spent without progress, he formed a resolve to tell the old gentleman that he needed a fresher and a brisker air than that blown about the ancient temple of lore. It ought not to hurt him now since he had begun to look upon his son with an eye so dark with censure. Even if his affection had been withdrawn his blood-interest must surely still remain, the young man mused; even though sentiment were dead, there must remain alive a desire to see him prosper, and to prosper in that old place was impossible. He believed that his father was losing his mind; years of dry opinion, of unyielding fact and the dead weight of precedent growing heavier, smothered his mental life. The household, with the exception of the Judge, was at dinner, and when Howard entered the dining room his mother arose hastily and came to meet him. "Your father wants to see you in the office," she said, and putting her hand on his arm, she added: "I don’t know what he wants, but no matter what it is, please bear with him—don’t say anything to annoy him." "Has anything happened?" Howard asked. "Something, but I don’t know what. Someone called, I heard loud talking in the office, and after the caller had gone, your father came out and said that he wanted to see you as soon as you arrived. Be gentle with him, dear." The old gentleman was sitting at his desk when Howard entered the office. He got up and for a time stood looking at the young man with no word of explanation. "Well, sir," he said, after a time, "what will you do next?" "What have I done now?" "No quibbling, sir. You know what you have done." "I pledge you my honor I do not." "Pledge me your what! Pledge me your old clothes, but not your honor." "You wanted to see me, so mother says, and now I should like to know why." "I suppose that you are so innocent that you can’t even guess. Or is it that you are so forgetful of your deeds that you cannot remember? Why did you send that old fool out here?" "Send an old fool out here! I didn’t send anyone." The old man took a step toward him with his finger uplifted. His eyes were full of anger and his finger shook, a willow in the wind. "How can you deny it? You sent old Dr. Risbin, the morphine eater, out here to see me." "Oh, did he come out here? But I swear I did not send him. In fact, I told him not to come." "Ah, and is that the reason he came—because you told him not to? He was never here before in his life, and why should he say that you sent him?" "Because he is a poor old liar, I suppose. I admit that I saw him in his office and—" "A gradual acknowledgment is better than no acknowledgment at all. Why did you see him in his office, or why did you speak of me?"