But over and over again recurred the question, "Why don't people think about these things?" She wanted to rush out and wipe the slates of her friends clear of their comfortable sophistries. She wanted to make them understand that because a man preached change he was not as dangerous as the man who preached inaction when there was a volcano under their feet. Why must they always destroy their Cassandras? She was at a pitch of exaltation which she had seldom attained before when John Baker, the most phlegmatic person she knew, was announced. He greeted her seriously, as he greeted everyone, and accomplished the conversational preliminaries in the fewest possible words. Then he made clear the purpose of his visit. "I have bad news for you," he said calmly. "Yes?" Judith's manner was as placid as his own, though a thousand questions flashed across her mind. He cleared his throat. "It is a fact that even the shrewdest men make bad investments--indefensible investments," he said profoundly, as if the discovery were his own. "Oh...." Her fears vanished. He was the harbinger only of financial trouble. "Your father," he went on without haste, "was an extraordinarily shrewd man. But even he...." "... made bad investments?" "Exactly." "Well ... tell me the worst--I am brave," she laughed. "For some reason, impossible to explain, he became possessed of a majority of the bonds of _The Dispatch_. It is a curious thing. He must have known that a newspaper presents the worst possible field for inactive investment. No property changes more rapidly in transition from a going condition to a forced sale." "What about the bonds?" "That is my bad news. _The Dispatch_ has not been financially successful for years. The present owners have resolved to give up the losing struggle." "I see. But where does that affect me?" "You hold their bonds. They intend to default on the payment of further interest--and, of course, principal as well." "Oh...." Judith felt that she should evidence dismay at least sufficient to match Baker's gravity. But there were too many unpleasant things in the world for her to furrow her brow over the loss of a few thousands from her annual income. An admission of that, she knew, however, would shock him: so she contented herself with a noncommittal monosyllable. "You will lose heavily," he continued. "The bonds constitute a first lien on the property, to be sure, but most of the property consists of good-will, which is not very good, so I'm told. Really all you can hope for is the proceeds from the sale of the machinery and furniture. They'll sell for only a fraction of their value, too. Really, it's quite too bad." The genuine regret in his voice almost made her smile. It was so incongruous that he, who lost nothing, should be so much more affected than she, who lost everything. "What will become of the paper?" she asked.