The girl flushed. "I can come back again," then something steadying her, to the cashier, "I wanted to settle with you, Mr. Lowden, about our man Colter. You were so kind that day, you helped me so wonderfully." She smiled a little shyly. "For a moment I didn't know what to do." The man made courteous deprecation. "I was so glad to be of service." Anticipating the girl's wish, he put a slip of paper into her hand, and Sard read it interestedly, her brows raised. "This can't be all. He was two nights at that boarding-house, I think, and his clothes were pressed and laundered--and--someone got him shoes----" "Just the same," the young fellow laughed, "that's all it is. I strongly suspect, Miss Bogart, that the village philanthropists were as much interested in your case as you were, only," he sighed a little, "you took the lead. You were the real Samaritan; the rest of us might--well, it is just possible we could have passed that man day after day until he dropped dead from neglect and exhaustion. The doctor said it was only a question of a few hours more without food." "You would have believed he was a tramp," excused Sard. Though she knew it was no excuse. "But you knew that he was not a tramp," said the man quietly. Then as he gravely acknowledged the sum Sard laid on the desk, "Does he grow more coherent?" Sard looked grateful for this intelligent interest, so different from the sensational kind manifested by other acquaintances. "He just works," she said thoughtfully, "works and reads and says very little. He almost never goes to the kitchen as the other men we employ do, and he reads a great deal and takes long walks. He knows the countryside thoroughly and if you ask him questions about flowers, he tells you queer scientific things, and--and----" she hesitated. The look of interest on the face of the lawyer sitting here made the girl pause; an inherent reticence in Sard was a noticeable characteristic. Before Shipman she was on her guard; with a little nod she turned and was gone. The two men, admiring, noted the quick decision, the arrest of confidence, and smiled at each other. "It was Miss Bogart who headed my cavalcade last night," said Shipman, "and she was spokeswoman for the O'Brien matter. Has she, do you think, much influence with her father?" The young cashier put his finger-tips together. "With Bogart? Did you ever know anyone who ever had any influence with Bogart? You don't know the man; he's not modern in any sense. He has the hard and fixed ideas of crime and punishment. He believes in the Example. Punishment is his fetich. From his point of view, if he gives this young chap a life sentence, fewer old men will get shot in the back. That's Bogart's point of view." The cashier ruminated for a few moments, then added, "any jury knows it and plays upon it."