Gergue leaned forward and clapped his knee and chuckled. Something pleased him. Amos watched him with an expression of comical bewilderment, until Gergue caught his eye and sobered abruptly. Then Amos asked, most casually: “How’s young Wint, Peter?” Gergue looked sharply at the Congressman. “The boy? We-ell--he’s over twenty-one.” “Er--is he?” Amos squinted at the ceiling. “Seems to me he is. He was three years ahead of Agnes in school and high school, and she is twenty now. He must be twenty-two or three.” Peter considered this, but made no comment. After a moment Amos asked again: “So--how is he, Peter?” Gergue rummaged through his back hair. “We-ell--they kicked him out of State for over-study of booze.” Amos nodded. “I know. But--how is he?” “Still at it.” “Still at--the booze?” “He drinks when he has a mind to; and he’s got a large and active mind.” “What does his father think of it?” “Various sentiments.” “Wint is looking badly.” Gergue nodded. “I come along the street this morning,” he said. “He was standing in front of the Post Office. His back was to me; and when I says, ‘Hello’ to him, he jumped a foot. Nerves on edge.” “That’s natural.” Peter shook his head. “Not natural; booze.” “Oh,” said Amos; and: “But he’ll straighten up. He’ll come out all right.” Peter shook his head. “I’ve seen ’em go that way. By and by his face will begin to look old, just over night. And then his clothes will get shabby, and b’fore anybody knows different, he’ll be hanging around the hotel corner of nights with a cigarette in his mouth.” He hesitated. “He’s set in his way, Amos. Nothing but an accident’ll change him.” Amos looked across at Peter curiously. “Accident?” “Yeah.” Gergue volunteered no explanation; but after a little time Amos said slowly: “Well, Peter--some accidents ain’t so accidental as others. Pete, you just make a study of Wint Chase for me.” Gergue looked curious, and he threaded his hair for his medulla oblongata, but he asked no questions. Before a direct instruction or command from Amos, Peter was always silently obedient. He looked at Amos, and then he turned back at the fire; and for a long time the two men sat thus, staring into the coals above the smoking bowls of their pipes. It is one of the merits of cut-plug for smoking that a well-filled pipe gives a long smoke. Amos Caretall’s pipe lasted three quarters of an hour before the last embers were drowned in the moisture at the bottom of the bowl. He knocked out the loose ashes into his palm, leaving the half-burned cake in the bottom of the pipe to serve as priming for a later smoke, and then stuffed the pipe affectionately away into his pocket. Peter was still puffing at his, and Amos watched him for a little, and then he chuckled softly to himself. Gergue looked across at him in faint surprise. Amos chuckled harder, began to laugh, laughed aloud--and instantly was as sober as a judge.