Charley Steele and Billy Wantage walked on slowly to the house under the
hill.

"He's the right sort," said Billy. "He's a sport. I can stand that
kind. Did you ever hear him sing? No? Well, he can sing a comic song
fit to make you die. I can sing a bit myself, but to hear him sing 'The
Man Who Couldn't Get Warm' is a show in itself. He can play the banjo
too, and the guitar--but he's best on the banjo. It's worth a dollar to
listen to his Epha-haam--that's Ephraim, you know--Ephahaam Come Home,'
and 'I Found Y' in de Honeysuckle Paitch.'"

"He preaches, too!" said Charley drily.

They had reached the door of the house under the hill, and Billy had no
time for further remark. He ran into the drawing-room, announcing
Charley with the words: "I say, Kathleen, I've brought the man that made
the judge sit up."

Billy suddenly stopped, however, for there sat the judge who had tried
the case, calmly munching a piece of toast. The judge did not allow
himself the luxury of embarrassment, but bowed to Charley with a smile,
which he presently turned on Kathleen, who came as near being
disconcerted as she had ever been in her life.

Kathleen had passed through a good deal to look so unflurried. She had
been on trial in the court-room as well as the prisoner. Important
things had been at stake with her. She and Charley Steele had known each
other since they were children. To her, even in childhood, he had been
a dominant figure. He had judicially and admiringly told her she was
beautiful--when he was twelve and she five. But he had said it without