Judge Baronet gave him a chair and sat down across the table from him to listen. Judson had grated harshly on his mood, but he was a man of poise. "I'll be brief and blunt. That's what you lawyers want, ain't it?" The little man giggled. "But I must advise this step at once as a necessary, a very necessary one." My father waited. Judson hadn't the penetration to feel embarrassed. "You see it's like this. If you'll just keep still a minute I can show you, though I ain't no lawyer; I'm a man of affairs, a commercialist, as you would say. A producer maybe is a better term. In short, I'm a money-maker." My father smiled. "I see," he remarked. "I'll keep still. Go on." "Well, now, I'm a widower that has provided handsome for my first wife's remains. I've earned and paid for the right to forget her." The great broad-shouldered, broad-minded man before the little boaster looked down to hide his contempt. "I've did my part handsome now, you'll admit; and being alone in the world, with no one to enjoy my prosperity with me, I'm lonesome. That's it, I'm lonesome. Ain't you sometimes?" "Often," my father replied. "Now I know'd it. We're in the same boat barring a great difference in ages. Why, hang it, Judge, let's get married!" He giggled explosively and so failed to see the stern face of the man before him. "I want a young woman, a pretty girl, I've a right to a pretty girl, I think. In fact, I want Marjory Whately. And what's more, I'm going to have her. I've all but got the widder's consent now. She's under considerable obligation to me." Across John Baronet's mind there swept a picture of the Chattanooga battle field. The roar of cannon, the smoke of rifles, the awful charge on charge, around him. And in the very heart of it all, Irving Whately wounded unto death, his hands grasping the Springvale flag, his voice growing faint. "You will look after them, John? Phil promised to take care of Marjie. It makes this easier. I believe they will love each other, John. I hope they may. When they do, give them my blessing. Good-bye." Across this vision Judson's thin sharp voice was pouring out words. "Now, Baronet, you see, to be plain, it's just this way. If I marry Marjory, folks'll say I'm doing it to get control of the widder's stock. It's small; but they'll say it." "Why should it be small?" My father's voice was penetrating as a knife-thrust. Judson staggered at it a little. "Business, you know, management you couldn't understand. She's no hand at money matters." "So it seems," my father said dryly.