“A guilty conscience, more likely. I says to him, ‘Well, Homer, are the nuggets handy? I’ll take ’em if they are.’ He looked up almost like he didn’t understand. ‘The nuggets?’ he says. ‘What nuggets?’ ‘Why, the nuggets I handed you as security.’ ‘You didn’t give me any nuggets,’ he says. ‘Yes, I did.’ ‘Why, you didn’t either!’ He was nice and friendly all the time, Judge, but said I was mistaken. Well, I’m not mistaken.” Her voice rose excitedly. “He’s been gambling with Jim; he’s short of money; Carpenter, the fruit-man, is back in town, and Homer’s scared.” The face of the Judge grew pallid, and fear came into the grey eyes. He drew in a quick breath. “Mrs. Luce, you’re yellin’. Do you want the hull town t’hear? Let’s settle this without a crowd. You say Carpenter’s here?” “Came in on the five-eight.” She looked across at the Judge defiantly. “Mrs. Luce”--his voice was husky with pleading--“I think the boy’s playin’ a joke on you.” “Well, he didn’t act joky. And I want his safe opened.” “If he was tryin’ to do you such a trick he wouldn’t leave the nuggets in the safe.” At that she burst into tears. “You’re against me!” she cried; “just like the other day. You’ve got your favourites, and you don’t show justice--not a bit of justice! When anybody does something wrong, you’re always ready to protect ’em and make excuses, and keep ’em from being punished, instead of getting the law on ’em. I tell you what this town needs; it needs a new Judge!” Now the blood mounted to his face. “That’s pretty rough on me,” he said. “Wal, Mrs. Luce, I’ll be outen here just as soon as I can manage it. Y’know”--with almost a twinkle in his eyes--“I’m aimin’ to be District Attorney of Shasta County, Sooperior Judge, Rep’esentative from this district, Gov’nor of Californy, Senator to Washington, an’ President of the United States.” “You’ll be back driving stage if you treat other people like you’re treating me.” “Whenever a man makes a first mistake I like to encourage him,” he explained. “I allus do what I can--an’ keep inside the law. Now, please, Mrs. Luce, let me git this misunderstandin’ cleared up. ‘Gid’ll settle things fair,’ you said the other day. So you go home, an’ don’t say a word to nobody. If any of the women folks ask you w’y you been cryin’, tell ’em you been cuttin’ up onions.” He tried to smile. “No, sir!” She rose angrily. “I won’t go home, and I won’t lie to shield Homer Scott. I’ll go up and down Main Street, and tell everybody what he’s done, and how you’re acting about it. I’ll have my revenge, anyhow. I’ll break off his match with Alicia Clay.” Now the Judge rose, pressing down on the arms of his chair to lift himself, and a queer trembling--almost a spasm--crossed his face. “Alicia!” he said under his breath. “They’re engaged, then! An’ it’ll hurt her!” “She’d better be hurt a little now than have her heart broken later on. It’s a mistake to let a sweet girl like that marry a crooked man.”