Smith shook his head sourly. “The old man is getting more absent-minded every year,” he said. “We can’t trust him to look after his business any longer. The managing clerk gave him a week’s notice, and told him about it again yesterday. You think there is no chance of getting more time?” Bruce looked at his colleague with contempt. “_You_ might,” he said sarcastically; “_I_ can’t.” “Oh, I’ll take your word for it,” said Smith. “I don’t want to tackle Heminway.” Bruce laughed dryly. “The case has been put over for us I don’t know how many times already,” he said. “I don’t blame Heminway. He gave us ample notice that he couldn’t do it again.” “That’s true,” said Smith. Reed _vs._ Hawkins, the case in question, was a litigation of small financial importance, about which the senior Cutting had formed a novel and ingenious theory of defense. Instead of turning it over to the younger men, he kept it as a legal recreation. But he never got to it. It was his Carcassonne. The day of trial would come, and he would smile blandly, and remark: “True! That has slipped my mind completely. Bruce, kindly send over to Heminway and ask him to put it over the term. I want to try that case myself. A very interesting point of law, Bruce, very interesting.” The last time this had happened, the great Mr. Heminway observed that professional etiquette had been overtaxed, and that the Reed case must go on. People who knew Mr. Heminway did not waste their breath urging him to change his mind. Messrs. Bruce and Smith considered the situation for a time in silence. “Well,” said Smith, at last, “it’s bad for the firm to let a judgment be taken against us by default, but I don’t see anything else to do.” At this moment the elder Cutting emerged from his private office with his hat on. Obviously he was in a hurry, but he paused as he came through. “Have you attended to that Reed matter?” he asked. “There’s nothing to do but let it go by default,” said Bruce. Mr. Cutting stopped. “Get more time!” he said sharply. “I can’t,” said Bruce. “Heminway has put his foot down. No one can make him change his mind now.” “Stuff!” said Mr. Cutting. “Dick, go over and tell Heminway I want that Reed case put over the term.” And he went out. Cutting finished the Gravesend races, laid the paper on his desk, scribbled a stipulation, and leisurely departed. As the door closed, the junior partners looked at each other and smiled. Then said Smith, “I wish I could be there and see it.” Bruce chuckled. He could imagine the scene tolerably well. “It will do him a lot of good,” he said. Then he added: “Don’t you think I had better write personally to Hawkins and explain matters? Of course we shall have to pay the costs.” “Yes,” said Smith; “it’s better to explain at once. It’s a piece of bad business.”