After Casey's call the air seemed to be cleared and under that driving compulsion which has never left us we went on about the business of trying to succeed with nature since she had succeeded so well with us. The study of the deep processes of the mind eclipsed the next two days and only the terrible jangle of that outmoded telephone brought us to the surface again. It's too bad that we had to converse orally with the great masses of the untrained. It's so slow and they could learn so easily. It was Casey again, telling us we were needed down at the station. He was apparently calling us on blind orders, for he couldn't tell us what was up. Figuring that we had another prisoner to crack we closed classes and drove down. The sheriff seemed mystified, too, and just slightly troubled. We could read that much off the surface of his mind, but he was upset enough to make the rest of his thoughts a meaningless jumble of impulses. All he knew was that we were wanted in the judge's chambers. You guessed it, Honey. It was Judge Thurlow filling in for Kimball on an emergency hearing and he figured it was his duty to mankind to give us a little talking to while he was there. After all, the good of the community was his concern now, and he chose to interpret that as the opportunity to place his narrow little views on record. Trainor, the sheriff's deputy faithful only to the judge, because of a favor granted while he served in Thurlow's district, was very busy signing his name to something when we walked into the chambers. It gave us a peculiar feeling to see Thurlow sitting at Kimball's desk. It bore out our theory about a room taking on the personality of its occupant. This room was no longer warm and friendly. The only thing we could read from Thurlow was a selfrighteous anger and a solemn, nasty vow to fight us to the last ditch--which, incidentally, he has done for that irrigation ditch is the last one we ever wish to occupy. That water was miserably cold. Three guesses what Trainor was signing. Of all things, a complaint charging us with questionable educational technique! The one thing not covered by license, as Thurlow made haste to confirm through the State House, and by Trainor's complaint, the one way we could legally come into his hands. It was a dainty little frame but unbreakable. Spreading a sweet legal shovel he asked us questions that minutely covered every phase and method of our teaching, then smiled a nasty smile, the while fixing his own signature to another wisp of terribly binding paper. A restraining order. The words of which forbade us to teach! We were to suspend our life's work or suffer the punishment for contempt of court because of a narrow-minded, righteously wrathful mental prude!