Dash it, what they all chorused at me! They seemed pretty positive about it, too, and I was jolly miserable; but looking back now, I somehow think of that moment as being the point where I reached the parting of the what-you-call-'ems. Didn't know what to think, but knew I had to make up my mind right then and there--and for _always_, don't you know. Knew, of course, that it was just pure _luck_ that Frances cared for me--realized jolly well I wasn't particularly clever and all that, you know; but _she_ didn't seem to mind. It was then that it came to me all of a sudden that the only dashed thing in all the world that I could give _her_, that she didn't seem to have already from somebody, was--well just _trust_. And, by Jove, as soon as I got hold of this perfectly corking idea, I knew I had it for life, and--well, nothing else mattered in all the world, you know! Meantime, her father was studying me a little oddly and smiling. "I see you don't quite like what I say about Francis," he remarked, puffing complacently. I looked him straight in the eye. "Frankly, I don't, if you must know," I blurted. Then I screwed my monocle tight and straightened forward. "By Jove, I think you ought to be ashamed of yourself, you know!" "Wh--what's that?--_Lightnut!_" He turned a beet color and grasped the arms of his chair. "Oh, I do." I stood up and he followed. "I think if that poor child had had a little--er--forbearance and kindness--that sort of thing--oh, dash it, I just think you've been infernally harsh always--yes, I do!" "Well, I'll be--" He swallowed it, neck forward, and stood panting a bit. "_Harsh_, eh?" he jerked at me. "Um!" He stood there, his feet braced apart, his white brows beetling at the floor. "Harsh!" He cocked his head on one side, thrusting out his heavy under-lip. Then came a sniff and a grunt, and oh, he looked black! I was feeling devilish pale--you can, you know--and a little trembly from excitement. Wasn't quite sure what I had said, but knew jolly well I must have meant it, whatever it was. Knew, of course, that in another minute it would be his come-back and he would simply slay me. He would look at me coldly through his glasses, bow with dignity, and leave the room. And then-- I wondered if Jenkins had a time-table! And just then came a quick breath, and I caught a murmur: "I wonder now if, after all, that is true! By George, they say children and--" The mutter trailed off. "Here, here, my boy--sit down," he exclaimed suddenly; and he made me. "I want to thank you, Lightnut," he said impressively. "It may be that you are right. Perhaps the better course would be gently to reason with Francis." "Oh, Judge, I am sure of it," I urged feelingly.