He opened the door of his private office, thrusting her gently inside, and hurried away. I turned to meet my father, and there was Marjie. Tear drops were on her long brown lashes, and her cheeks were flushed. "Why, my little girl!" I exclaimed in surprise as she started to hurry away. "I didn't know you were in here; your father sent me in"--and then the tears came in earnest. I couldn't stand for that. "What is it, Marjie?" I had put her in my father's chair and was bending over her, my face dangerously near her cheek. "It's Amos Judson--Oh, Phil, I can't tell you. I was going to talk to your father." "All right," I said gayly. "Ask papa. It's the proper thing. He must be consulted, of course. But as to Judson, don't worry. O'mie promised me just this morning to sew him up in a sack and throw him off the cliff above the Hermit's Cave into the river. O'mie says it's safe; he's so light he'll float." Marjie smiled through her tears. A noise in the outer office reminded us that some one was there, and that the outer door was half ajar. Then my father came in. His face was kindly impenetrable. "I had forgotten my son was here. Phil, take these papers over to the county attorney's office. I'll call you later." He turned me out and gave his attention to Marjie. I loafed about the outer office until she and my father came out. He led her to the doorway and down the steps with a courtesy he never forgot toward women. When we were alone in his private office I longed to ask Marjie's errand, but I knew my father too well. "You wanted to see me, Phil?" He was seated opposite to me, his eyes were looking steadily into mine, and clear beyond them down into my soul. "Yes, Father," I replied; "I am a man now--twenty-one years and one day over. And there are a few things, as a man, I want to know and to have you know." He was sharpening a pencil carefully. "I'm listening," he said kindly. "Well, Father--" I hesitated. It was so much harder to say than I had thought it would be. I toyed with the tassel of the window cord confusedly. "Father, you remember when you were twenty-one?" "Yes, my son, I was just out of Harvard. And like you I had a father to whom I went to tell him I was in love, just as you are. When your own son comes to you some day, help him a little." I felt a weight lifted from my mind. It was good of him to open the way. "Father, I have never seen any other girl like Marjie." "No, there isn't any--for you. But how about her?" "I think, I know she--does care. I think--" I was making poor work of it after all his help. "Well, she said she did, anyhow." I blurted out defiantly.