Fritz scarcely listened to the story, he was so busy considering what was best to be done. Long before he could reach the street where he had seen them, the blue dress and the black coat would have vanished; besides, he had no legal or moral right to interfere, or even to suppose that what he had seen was anything more than honest “keeping company.” Indeed, from any contrary supposition Fritz’s honest soul revolted with all the strength of its own integrity; yet the secrecy observed,—for no one at “Prices” suspected that even an acquaintance existed between the two he had seen,—and the man’s reputation, which was none of the best, left no reason to suppose that he, at least, intended honorable marriage. “And it is so easy to deceive a girl,” thought Fritz, grinding his teeth with secret rage. Just at this moment, something Mr. Clare was saying caught his attention. “No enemy, boys, is bad enough to justify us in hating him. It may be perfectly right to knock him down or give him a good thrashing, but only in case it is the best course for _him_, as well as for those we want to help. For there is many a brute who is not amenable to any milder argument than a horsewhip; and it is, of course, better for him to try conclusions with that than to be allowed to commit a crime and injure the innocent. Your muscles were given you to protect not only your mothers, sisters, and sweethearts, but also every weak one unable to protect himself; but I should be chary of handing over the oppressor to the secular arm, until all other methods had failed; nor even then to gratify any personal feeling. If you are ready to bind his head up afterwards, you may trust yourself to knock it against a stone wall,” he ended, smiling, “but not unless.” “I’d like to see the color of his brains first,” said Fritz savagely; “and decide upon mending him afterwards.” “Then you’re not a good soldier, my boy,” said Mr. Clare. “While you profess to beat the enemy off the open battle-field, you will in reality give him shelter in the fortress intrusted to your special care, your own heart.” “The enemy! you mean sin?” said Fritz, who was well accustomed to Mr. Clare’s modes of speech. “The only enemy worth speaking of.” “But suppose a man is trying to lead some one into sin—a girl, say; and you could prevent it by breaking his head?” “Would that root out the sin from her heart, Fritz? A girl who will listen to one man might listen to another, and you could not keep on breaking heads forever.” “She might be deceived once; she could not be the second time.” “In that case, there need be no question of breaking heads; you need simply open her eyes.” “And if she refused to believe me?”