“It will be out in about ten days,” the author said calmly, “and then my friends will make a business of sending me all the adverse criticisms. If I didn’t like to see the favorable ones occasionally I shouldn’t need to employ clipping bureaus. I’m hanged if I see the point of view which makes it a duty to be disagreeable!” Fox laughed. “My dear fellow, our friends never realize us. I remember the first speech I ever made at the primaries; I was a little flushed with success; I’d had some applause, but suddenly I heard a voice, the sharp high voice of my childhood’s neighbor, an old Methodist deacon, and it said: ‘Well, I’m beat if it ain’t Billy Fox makin’ a speech, an’ the last time I saw him I was mighty nigh givin’ him a lickin’ for fishin’ on Sunday in my pool!’ By heavens,” Fox added with sudden bitterness, “I wish I were fishing there now; how cool and deep the shadows were!” “Trout, of course?” said Berkman sympathetically. Fox nodded. “Big ones; there was a willow behind the pool; we cut our whistles there and hid there when we saw old man Siddons coming. Lord, Berkman, how the past slips away!” “You ought to go back there now,” said the author abruptly, as he rose; “I never saw you so pale; have you been ill?” “Never better; you know that like Prosper Merimée I am naturally of the color of the pale horse in the Apocalypse.” “Ah, well,” said Berkman, knocking the ashes from his cigarette, “I don’t envy you public life; it’s a harness, Fox, and a pretty tight harness too, I fancy.” “I don’t think I shall see a great deal more of it,” Fox answered, with an enigmatical smile. Berkman stared. “You!” he exclaimed; “you’re at the threshold, man; in another year or so the country will be clamoring for you.” “Or against me,” said Fox scornfully; “wait a moment,” he added, with a complete change of tone, “I’ll go with you, this room suffocates me to-day, it’s full of vapors!” * * * * * Meanwhile old Mrs. Allestree sat opposite to Judge Temple in his library; the door was closed and they were alone save for the birds in the garden, for the windows were wide open, cool striped awnings shading the room from the warm glow of the afternoon, which steeped that secluded spot in slumberous calm. “Stephen, I’m the criminal,” she said firmly, “Robert had nothing whatever to do with it; there’s your old check and you’ve got to keep it!” The judge colored painfully; he had aged twenty years in the last few weeks and his old friend saw it. Once or twice she had winked back her tears but her voice was acrid. “I can’t keep it and keep the picture,” he said firmly; “Robert has earned the money; I distinctly stipulated that I should pay the regular price for the portrait.” “And Robert never meant you should! My dear friend, you and I know that he loves Rose; why hurt the boy’s feelings?” “That’s one reason why I can’t accept it, don’t you see--” the judge stopped abruptly.