“Not be there!” Fred repeated, feeling that the party, for which he did not particularly care, would lose all interest for him if this girl, to whom he had never spoken until this morning, were not there. There was no time for further remark or expostulation, for Mrs. Grey had come to meet her daughter, whose long absence had made her very anxious, and whom she took at once into the house, asking in much concern what had happened and why her dress was so wet. Herbert tried to explain, but he was too much excited and fatigued himself to make it very clear, and as his father was growing impatient, he said good-by, and with Fred returned to the carriage, which was driven rapidly away. CHAPTER VII THE JUDGE Lunch had waited a long time at the White’s, where the ladies were in a state of great anxiety, which deepened into alarm, as no attention was paid to the message sent to the bank, asking how matters were progressing. Mrs. White had heard of the run from Mrs. Lansing and Miss Percy, without much emotion. It seemed absurd that such a thing could happen to them. “It can’t amount to much. The judge will soon stop it. There must be money enough to meet every claim,” she said, and turned her attention to the upheaval in her house, where workmen of different kinds were constantly consulting her. Lunch was ready promptly at twelve, but before that they had ‘phoned to the bank twice in quick succession. The first time there was no response. The second time the judge’s voice came back like a fog horn: “Quit telephoning. Nobody can pay attention in this infernal racket. There’s the very old boy to pay!” Alarmed now and almost hysterical, Mrs. White sent a boy to the scene of action, and as he did not at once return, she sent another, with injunctions to come back immediately, which he did with the news that the run was over and things quieting down, but there had been a great row and the street was full of people. Then a third message was sent to the judge to hurry, as lunch was waiting. At the bank the judge had thought himself hungry, and during the drive he had sat up straight and proud, holding his head high, not deigning to look at anyone, but the moment he reached home he collapsed entirely, and it was a very crushed and trembling man who crept up to his room, and, lying down upon the couch, said to his wife with quivering lips and a shaky voice: “Cover me up, Susan. I’m cold, and don’t speak to me of victuals. My stomach is all in a broil, and my head feels as if it was full of bumble-bees. I’ve had an awful time! Yes, an awful time!” He was almost crying, and held his wife’s hand tightly while in broken sentences he tried to tell her what he had been through.