“Oh-h, I don’t know. I think I was dreaming of prison and that they were taking me there; but you will save me,” he moaned. “Yes, father,” she said, kissing his pallid face. “I will save you. But how?” she asked herself, while a thought of Herbert crossed her mind. He had been there every day, or, rather, evening—for, like Nicodemus, he chose the night for his visits, and it seemed to her that every time he came he appeared more and more under constraint. Still, he was very kind, and had said to her more than once: “I am so sorry; and I wish I could help you. Command me if I can.” Remembering this, there came into Louie’s mind the thought: “He can help me. They will listen to him.” She did not expect him till evening, and then it might be too late. She could not go for him, but she could telephone, and she did, first to the house, and then to the bank, from which the judge’s voice, asking, “Who are you?” came back so loud that it made her start. “Louie Grey,” was the response. “What do you want?” “I want Herbert.” “The devil you do!” the judge said, in an aside; then, through the ‘phone, “He is in the street. What shall I tell him?” “Please say that I want to see him at once. I am in great trouble,” Louie answered, frankly and fearlessly, with no thought of the storm she was provoking. Taking his son into the rear office when he came in, the judge said to him: “Don’t you call it pretty brassy for a girl to send word to a young man that she wants to see him at once?” “What do you mean?” Herbert asked, with a thought of Louie. “I mean that Grey girl has ‘phoned that she wants you at once. That looks as if she had a claim, or thinks she has; and, by the Lord Harry, if that is so, you are no son of mine. I’ve told you that a dozen times, and I mean it, too. You must choose between me and that Grey girl.” He did not ask direct questions, and Herbert was glad, for he could not tell a square lie, and he dared not acknowledge his engagement. So he listened in silence until his father paused a moment, and then replied: “It is hardly worth your while to expend so much breath on me. I know enough to study my own interest. But if Louie has sent for me, it certainly would be very unmanly in me not to go to her. Remember what she did for us.” “I do remember, and if I didn’t it has been thrown in my face often enough; but that is no reason why she should be my daughter-in-law, and I tell you I won’t have it. No, sir; I won’t have it; and if you’ve got entangled with the daughter of a gambler and a thief, and maybe a State-prison bird, get disentangled, for I tell you I won’t have it!” the judge answered, angrily, going from the room and leaving Herbert alone. It was very indiscreet in Louie to telephone, but he must go to her, he thought, and he was soon at the house, asking why she had sent for him, and why she was looking so terrified.