"That's all very well," responded Van Dyne, when the Judge had made an end of his long speech. "But I don't believe the organization leaders are really so far behind other people, or so much worse. They're not hypocrites, that's all. They know what they want, and they take it the easiest way they can." "If that is the best defense you can make for them, they are worse than I thought," retorted the Judge. "Sometimes the easiest way to take what you want is to steal it." "I don't claim that they are perfect, all of them," the younger man declared. "I suppose they are all sorts--good, bad, and indifferent. But we are all miserable sinners, you know--at least we say so every Sunday. And I have known bad men in the church." "Come, come, Curtis," the Judge replied, "that's unworthy of you, isn't it? You would not be apologizing to me for joining the church, would you?" Van Dyne was about to answer hastily, but he checked the words on his lips. He looked away and across the frozen park to the pushing crowd on Broadway; but he did not really see the huge wagons rumbling in and out of Mail Street, nor did he hear the insistent clang of the cable-car. His tone was deprecatory when he spoke at last. "I suppose you are right," he began, "and I don't quite see myself in that company. I'll be frank, Judge, for you are an old friend, and I know you wish me well, and I'd be glad to stand well in your eyes. I don't really want to join the organization; I don't like the men in it any more than you do; and I don't know that I approve of their ways much more than you do. But I've got to do it." "Got to?" echoed the Judge, in surprise. "Why have you got to? They can't force you to join if you don't wish it." "I've got to do it because I've got to have money," was the young man's explanation. "Do you mean that you are to be paid for associating with these people?" the Judge asked. "That's about it," was the answer. "I wouldn't do it if I wasn't going to make something out of it, would I? Not that there is any bargain, of course; but Pat McCann has dropped hints, and I know how easy it will be for them to throw things my way." "I didn't know you needed money so badly," said the Judge. "I thought you were doing well at the bar." "I'm doing well enough, I suppose," Van Dyne explained; "but I could do better. In fact, I must do better. I must have money. There's--well, there's Martha. She came out last fall, and I gave her a coming-out tea, of course. Well, I want her to have a good time. Mother had a good time when she was a girl, and why shouldn't Martha? She won't be nineteen again." "Yes," said the Judge, "your mother had a good time when she was a girl. Your father and I saw to that."