"You really must do something for this boy Pierce Phillips." Mrs. Cavendish spoke with decision. The newspaper which the colonel was reading was barely six weeks old, therefore he was deeply engrossed in it, and he looked up somewhat absentmindedly. "Yes, yes. Of course, my dear," he murmured. "What does he want now?" "Why, he wants his liberty! He wants this absurd charge against him dismissed! It's a shame to hold a boy of his character, his breeding, on the mere word of a man like Count Courteau." Colonel Cavendish smiled quizzically. "You, too, eh?" said he. "What do you mean by that?" "Why, you're the fourth woman who has appealed to me since his arrest. I dare say I'll hear from others. I never saw a fellow who had the female vote so solidly behind him. I'm beginning to regard him as a sort of domestic menace." "You surely don't believe him guilty?" When her husband refused to commit himself Mrs. Cavendish exclaimed, "Rubbish!" "First Josephine came to me," the colonel observed. "She was deeply indignant and considerably disappointed in me as a man and a father when I refused to quash the entire proceedings and apologize, on behalf of the Dominion Government, for the injury to the lad's feelings. She was actually peeved. What ails her I don't know. Then the Countess Courteau dropped in, and so did that 'lady dealer' from the Rialto. Now you take up his defense." The speaker paused thoughtfully for an instant. "It's bad enough to have the fellow hanging around our quarters at all hours, but Josephine actually suggested that we have him DINE with us!" "I know. She spoke of it to me. But he isn't 'hanging around at all hours.' Josephine is interested in his case, just as I am, because--" "My dear! He's a weigher in a saloon, a gambling-house employee. D'you think it wise to raise such a dust about him? I like the boy myself--can't help liking him--but you understand what he's been doing? He's been cutting up; going the pace. I never knew you to countenance a fellow--" "I never saw a boy toward whom I felt so--motherly," Mrs. Cavendish said, with some irrelevance. "I don't like wild young men any better than you do, but--he isn't a thief, of that I'm sure." "Look here." Colonel Cavendish laid down his paper, and there was more gravity than usual in his tone. "I haven't told you everything, but it's evidently time I did. Phillips was mixed up with bad associates, the very worst in town--" "So he told me." "He couldn't have told you what I'm about to. He had a most unfortunate affair with a dance-hall girl--one that reflects no credit upon him. He was on the straight path to ruin and going at a gallop, drinking, gambling--everything." "All the more reason for trying to save him. Remember, you were pretty wild yourself."