“When I’m district attorney I’m a-goin’ to buy a piece of property up at the county seat an’ have a home of my own.” He paused, watching her wistfully. “An’ if things turn out as I look to see ’em,” he went on in a low voice, “I’m a-goin’ to marry. I’ll be thirty my next birthday. If I wait any longer I s’pose folks’ll begin t’ call me a’ ole bach.” The colour in her cheeks deepened. “I think you ought to marry,” she agreed. But she looked down, and picked at the ruffles of her parasol. “I’ve thought about it a good deal. So far, though--wal, you know how it’s been” (this very gently). “There was that boy.” “Oh, Gid!” Now she lifted her face. Her eyes were swimming; her lips were trembling. “Gid,--it’s about Homer that I’ve come.” He sat back, and was silent for a long moment, watching her keenly. “I see,” he said finally, his own face very grave. He spoke aloud and yet as if to himself. “Yas--I think I understand--how it is.” He drew a long breath. “The town is talking about him, Gid,--talking awfully mean.” Instantly he straightened in his chair and looked across at her, amazed and troubled. “About Homer? W’y, what’s bein’ said?” “It started after Mr. Carpenter’s last trip up from San Francisco. And----” “Carpenter, the fruit-buyer?” “Yes. He handed over all the Manzanita shipping and paying to Homer, you know.” “Homer’s Business College trainin’ come in handy that time,” said the Judge proudly. “I hope he’ll never forget that he’s got you to thank for his education,” she went on. “You’ve been more than a brother to him--ever since he was in his baby-buggy and you were a little fellow. Mother says so. Just because his father was dead.” “His maw has allus been sickly,” reminded the Judge. “An’ I ain’t missed the little I paid out for him. He’s a fine boy, that’s what he is. There ain’t a finer or a handsomer or a stylisher boy in town. An’ he’s smart. Didn’t them Business College fellers hand him a medal for fancy penmanship? So there’s a few people in this town that’s jealous of him. Wal, who cares?” She rose and stepped forward to the desk. “Gid,” she said, “I hate to tell you. But I must. Oh, I knew you’d be the last person to hear anything!” “What can man, woman or child find to say agin Homer Scott?” he asked huskily. “Since Mr. Carpenter went Homer’s acted different. He hasn’t been over to our house lately, or to see his other friends. He goes to the Occidental Hotel of evenings--with Jim Luce and his crowd.” “And----?” He was leaning forward once more. “And folks say that--that he’s gambling.” “Gamblin’.” He repeated it under his breath. “After all you’ve done for him, he ought to think of what’ll please you--not what’ll hurt.”