"I happened to see a paragraph in the political gossip in the _Dial_ this morning," he began again; "I don't often read that sort of stuff, but your name caught my eye. It said that the organization was enlisting recruits from society as an answer to the slanderous attacks that had been made on it, and that people could see how much there was in these malignant assaults when they found the better element eager to be enrolled. And then it gave half a dozen names of men who had just joined, including yours and Jimmy Suydam's. I suppose there is no truth in it?" "It's about as near to the truth as a newspaper ever gets, I fancy," Van Dyne answered. His color had risen a little, and his speech had become a little more precise. "I haven't joined yet, but I'm going to join this week. Pat McCann is to take us in hand, Jimmy and me; he's our district leader." "Pat McCann!" and the Judge spoke the name with horrified contempt. "Yes," responded the young man. "Pat McCann has taken quite a shine to Jimmy and me. He gives us the glad hand and never the marble heart." "It's no matter about Suydam," said the Judge, with an impatient gesture; "he's a foolish young fellow and he doesn't know any better. I suppose he expects to be a colonel on the staff of the first governor they elect. But you--" It was with a hint of bravado that Van Dyne returned: "I don't see that I'm any better than Jimmy. He hasn't committed any crime that I know of--except the deadly sin of inheriting a fortune. And as far as that goes, I wish old man Suydam had adopted me and divided his money between us. Then I could have that steam-yacht and take Martha down to Jekyll Island next month." The Judge hesitated again, and then he said: "Curtis, I suppose you think I have no right to speak to you about this, and perhaps I haven't. But I have known you since you were born, and I went to school with your father. We were classmates in college, and I was his best man when he married your mother. You know his record in the war, and you are proud of it, of course. He left you--you will excuse my putting it plainly?--he left you an honorable name." "And that was about all he did leave me!" the young man returned. "I want to leave my children something more." "If you join the organization, if you are a hail-fellow-well-met with all the Pat McCanns of the city," retorted the Judge, sternly--"if you sink to that level, you would certainly leave your children something very different from what your father left you. If you do, I doubt whether the organization will go out of its way to offer inducements to your son. It will expect to get him cheap." The young lawyer flushed again, and then he laughed uneasily. "You are hard on me, Judge," he said at last. "I want you to be hard on yourself now," the older man returned. "I know you, Curtis; I know the stock you come of, and I am sure you will be hard enough on yourself--when it is too late."