The poor old man was wounded in more points than one. He had held himself so high, and in his foolishness had taken the people’s deference to him as real, and had believed himself as popular as he was rich, and in a moment the cobweb film had been torn away, and he saw himself as he really was in the estimation of the people. “And I am not as nice a man as Grey,” he thought bitterly, as he reviewed the events of the morning, and wondered again and again how it happened. “That was a plucky girl,” he said to himself, thinking of Louie, “and I can’t say but what Grey acted a friend’s part; but I believe there was something behind it. He had some axe to grind, and what he did was perfectly safe so long as the money did not come from him, but was just what we’d paid out.” When lunch was over, Fred Lansing came in to see the judge, and succeeded in soothing him somewhat, telling him that his bank was not the first on which there had been a run, nor the first to be helped through in the way he had been; and that the fact it had stood the run would insure it greater prestige in the future. Then he spoke of Louie, and said: “I am sorry she is not to be here to-night. I think she ought to come. Everybody will want to see her.” “Wasn’t invited,” the judge said quickly, his old feeling against the Greys beginning to return upon him, now that Richard was somewhat himself again. “Oh, yes she was. I saw the invitation myself,” Fred answered. “They have sent their regrets. Miss Grey told me so.” “Knew they wasn’t wanted, and showed their good sense in declining,” the judge answered gruffly, while Fred looked at him in surprise. “Not wanted! What is the matter with the Greys?” he asked, and the judge replied, “Prejudice, I suppose; all prejudice, most likely; but I don’t like the man, and never have.” “Do you know anything against him?” Fred asked. “Not a blessed thing, for sure. It’s all a surmise that there is something behind that smooth tongue and manner of his which takes the crowd. Nobody knows what he was before he came here, so poor that he lived in one of my tenements in White’s Row—cheapest place in town, where Nancy Sharp lives. Think of it!” and the judge looked at Fred as if White’s Row, and the tenement house and Nancy Sharp would settle the matter. But Fred did not seem at all disconcerted. He was seeing all the time the face which had rested on his arm and the light in the beautiful eyes when they first opened and looked up at him.