“It does work the other way. You’re on trial, guilty till proved innocent, worthless till proved otherwise. Some fathers.... A boy expelled from college for drunkenness.... You’re lucky that I am so lenient with you, young man.” “Am I?” “Now, Wint,” his mother interjected. “Don’t you aggravate your father. Goodness knows it’s hard enough to get along with him--” “Margaret!” “Well, I mean, you oughtn’t to--” Wint rose abruptly. “Nagging never did any good,” he said. “I mean to--do my part.” He flamed suddenly. “But--for Heaven’s sake--don’t talk me to death.” He went out, up to his room. He was trembling with humiliated resentment. In his room he stood for a moment before the mirror, looking at his image in the glass, frowning sullenly. “Talk! Talk! Talk!” he exclaimed hotly. “Always talk!” He went into the bathroom, splashed cold water into his face, went out again and down the stairs. He took his hat. His mother called, from the dining room: “Wint--there’s ice cream! Don’t you--” “No--thanks,” he said. “I’m going uptown.” He closed the door upon their protests, and went down to the street and turned toward the town. His way led past Joan’s house. He paused at her gate for a moment, hesitant, frowning, miserable, lonely. Then he went on. Almost every one goes uptown in Hardiston at night. The seven-fifteen train, bringing mail, is one excuse. The moving pictures are an allurement. The streets are better filled in early evening than at any other time of the day. Wint began presently to meet acquaintances. At the hotel, he encountered Jack Routt. Routt greeted him eagerly. “Wint! Hello there! Care for a game of billiards?” “I’d just as soon.” “Come along, then.” They went through the hotel office, down three steps, and into the pool room. There were three tables, two for pool and one for billiards. A game of Kelly pool was in progress at one table, but the billiard table was free. They chalked their cues. “Half a dollar?” Routt challenged. Wint nodded. “All right.” Routt won the draw and shot first. The game went jerkily forward. Neither was an expert player. A run of ten was an event. Wint played silently, his thoughts elsewhere. Routt was cheerful, loquacious, friendly. Wint envied him faintly. Every one liked Jack, respected him.... Routt won the game with a run of four, and laid his cue on the table. “I’ll be back in a minute, Wint,” he said. “You don’t mind waiting?” “I’ll go with you,” Wint countered. Routt shook his head. “Now, Wint--no, I won’t let you. You know--play it safe, man. You can’t afford to monkey with this.” “Don’t be a fool, Jack.” “Oh, Wint, I mean it. Leave it alone. That’s the only safe way--for you.” Wint’s eyes flamed suddenly. “Aren’t you coming?” he asked, and started for the door. Routt followed, still protesting. “Wint--don’t be a darned fool.” “Don’t be a preacher, Jack.” “Please, Wint--leave it alone. Come on back. I won’t go either.”