The Judge greeted Jim warmly, invited him into the library, and sat down to hear what he had to say. Jim told him almost without reservation the story of the fight for the possession of M. & T., beginning with his large investment in the road and his election to the presidency of it. He did not try to make a good story; he told what had happened as simply and briefly as possible, and he interested Judge Grey. Part of it was already known to him, and part filled in gaps in his knowledge. To him it was the story of an honest struggle for something worth struggling for. When it came to the latest move, and Jim without comment handed him Black's injunction, the Judge's wrath flamed out. “That's an outrage!” he exclaimed. “It's just a legal hold-up.” “Possibly,” said Jim. “It was the best move they could make, though. But,” he went on after a short pause, “I've got the right in this business, and I want you to help me.” “You want me to dissolve the injunction, I suppose,” said the Judge, cautiously. “No,” said Jim. “I don't. Just the other way. I'd like you to issue an injunction that will go a little farther.” There was another short pause, and then Jim began explaining his plan. As he explained and argued, the fire, which had been crackling cheerfully when he came in, flickered more and more faintly, and it was but a fading glow when that most informal session of the Circuit Court in chancery sitting came to its conclusion. “That's all right, then,” said Jim at length, rising as he spoke. “Yes,” said the other. “We'll do it that way. Are you going right back to Chicago, Mr. Weeks?” “No,” said Jim. “I shall be here for some time. From now on this fight will be along the line of the road.” Mr. Wing was oppressed by a sense of his office boy's superiority. He read disapprobation in the round-eyed stare, and even the cut-steel buttons, though of Wing's own purveying, seemed arguslike in their critical surveillance. He would have abolished them had he not felt that the boy would understand the change. If the boy had only forgotten to copy letters or had manifested an unruly desire to attend his relatives' funerals, his employer would have been a happier man. As it was, he felt apologetic every time he came in late or went out early. The directors' meeting which Porter and Thompson had decided upon on Friday was to take place the next afternoon in Wing's office; so, contrary to the little man's custom on Saturday afternoons, he returned thither after lunch.