"I mean that it was either the fourth, fifth or sixth. He told me then that he was on his way to New Orleans, by boat. It was during that intensely hot weather when so many people were sun—but that was in seventy-nine, wasn’t it?" "I don’t remember," said the Judge, winking at Howard by mistake and then frowning to undeceive him. "Yes, I think it was." "Seventy-nine," said the preacher, at a venture. "Then I couldn’t have seen old Bill in seventy-eight. But I saw him today—and he looks like a grizzly bear. And he didn’t seem to be in very good circumstances. But the last time I saw him before that—" "In seventy-nine," interrupted the Judge. "Well, I’m not so sure about that, John. Let me see. I was in St. Paul and went from there directly to St. Louis. Yes. Now, I haven’t been in St. Paul but once since seventy-eight and that was year before last. Went directly to St. Louis. It must have been seventy-eight, John. Yes, it was." "Well, go ahead with your story," said the Judge. "Oh, it’s no story. I was simply telling you when I met old Bill the last time." "And is that all there is to it?" "All! Isn’t it enough? I didn’t start to tell a story and you know it well enough. Look here, Howard," he added, turning upon the young lawyer, "are you fixing to jump on me, too?" "Not at all, Uncle Billy." "Oh, Uncle Billy, is it? Then I know you’ve got it in for me. Mr. Bradley, I studied for the ministry—not very hard, I admit—but I studied, and I am sorry sometimes that I didn’t go so far as to put on the cloth. It would have at least protected me from ridicule." Bradley smiled upon him in a lonesome sort of way, with his ear turned toward the front door, listening for the coming of Agnes. The family joke, so eternally green for the Judge, was but dry grass to him. His soul was panting for the sweet waters of love, the babbling brook of a girl’s delightful mischief. But the mind can talk shop while the soul is panting. "You no doubt would have added strength to our profession," he said. "I call it profession in want at the present moment of a better term. Why did you give up your intention? Not want of faith, I hope." Mrs. Elbridge shook her head as if to imply that there could be no want of faith in one connected with her family. "Well, I don’t know," said William. "But the scheme, if I may so express it, struck me as being not exactly useless, but, let us say, hopeless." "Hopeless," echoed the preacher. "Yes. The warfare has been going on nearly two thousand years, and the victory is not yet in sight." "At what date did it begin?" the Judge asked. William began to puff up. "Now, look here, John, this is a serious discussion. Is it possible that there is nothing serious except in the law, in the names of your old clients? Do you keep everything serious shut up in your safe?"