Hezekiah laughed. "As your legal adviser, I can't approve it. The waste from the dye-house at your mill is spoiling the water that some thousands of people have to drink. There is a simple remedy open to you but they have none. Common justice demands that you consider the rights of these beings." The attorney turned loose his oratorical voice. "Common justice demands it, sir." The manufacturer flushed and shifted uneasily. Quarrelsome as he was, he could not afford a break with this man. Hezekiah relapsed into a careful study of the metal cornice over the way. "Think it over. Think about it," snapped Obadiah after a moment's silence. "You may be able to catch my point of view. I have another subject which I want to discuss with you--an embarrassing personal matter." Hezekiah gave him a covert glance but immediately resumed inspection of the metal work across the street. "It's about my daughter," continued Obadiah. "I have a letter from her which I wish you to read." Hezekiah perused Virginia's letter with great care and attention. "Did she write that?" he asked abruptly, as he returned the communication. "It's in my daughter's handwriting but I suspect that my sister Kate may have had a hand in it. Virginia never wrote such a letter to me before. It is an unusual letter." "Yes, it is an unusual letter," Hezekiah agreed. There was merriment in his eyes but otherwise he presented the serious aspect befitting a counsellor in the presence of a client. "It is an implied threat to sever domestic relations. Such counsel as I give should have in contemplation the facts which led up to this--ahem--veiled ultimatum." This reasonable request embarrassed Obadiah greatly; but after some hesitation he explained the circumstances under which Virginia had left home as the act of a defiant, headstrong girl. "Dear me, an exceedingly unfortunate matter," exclaimed Hezekiah, as if astonished at the revelation. Therein his manner partook of deceit, as Hennie had favored him so often with the details of the matter, gathered from Virginia herself and more completely, through Carrie, from Serena, that he knew them by heart. The lawyer went on, "The adjustment of such family differences requires tact--the utmost tact and diplomacy." The happenings of the morning had sorely inflamed Obadiah's indigestion. As he repeated his woes to the attorney, remembrances of the lonely hours he had spent since the girl's departure came to him and he believed himself a sadly ill-used man. Miserable in body and spirit, he flamed into tempestuous rebellion at the mild measures proposed by his legal adviser. "Tact and diplomacy the devil!!" he exploded. "I'll use force, if necessary. She is my daughter, isn't she?" Hezekiah gravely conceded Obadiah's claim of paternity. "The law gives me some control of her?" "As an unmarried woman, you have certain rights over her," Hezekiah admitted.