Something like a sharp pain struck through me. Again--and this time from her own father! I just sat there kind of frozen, you know, except that I could feel the smile slowly loosening in my face. He moved to a seat nearer.

"I don't like to seem to be disparaging my own flesh and blood, Mr.

Lightnut," he proceeded gravely, "but the truth is Francis is the only one of my children that gives me any anxiety."

"Oh!" I felt myself shrink together, my knees slanting away from him.

My dashed monocle hung limp.

He angled closer. "Jack's drinking is bad--that I admit, but perhaps--h'm--he comes by it naturally; still Jack has never forgotten that he is a gentleman--the son of a gentleman--and has never been what you would call fast, but--" His chest lifted under a deep breath--"but Francis--_whew_!"

"Fast--Frances?" It faltered tremulously from my lips; my cigar dropped with a soft thud.

His eyes widened. "_Oh_, yes--frightfully!" And he tendered me another cigar, and I had to light it--he made me! "Of course, the mistake was in ever sending Francis away to school--not always a wise thing, Mr.

Lightnut, especially when the home life has been too cloistered. I think the reaction was too much for one so green and inexperienced as Francis.

And extravagance--my!" He lifted his hands. "I thought Jack was bad enough at Cambridge with a thousand-dollar apartment on the 'Gold Coast,' as you call it--and, by George, you Harvard men have got the right name for it!--but Francis beat that in one term's drain on me for poker losses and--"

"Poker?" I moistened my lips. Then I brightened, for perhaps he meant bridge--and _that_ was good form, for there was my Aunt Julia, who lived by it--fact! But his head shook impatiently when I suggested that he meant this.

"Bridge!" he exploded. "Why, Francis doesn't know bridge from casino!

_Poker_, I tell you, and faro--and all the rest. The plucking was done nightly at a certain--er--club, the establishment of a gentleman by the name of McGinty--'Spot' McGinty--oh, you _know_ the place, then?"

For I had gasped audibly. "Only--only by reputation," I responded hastily.

"Um, dare say it has got 'reputation,' all right. I guess, too, there are more crooked things than streets within a couple of miles of Harvard Square, eh? Why, do you know, Francis and a couple of cla.s.smates were caught in a raid there one night and lugged off to the station in a patrol--I had to bail 'em out by wire. That's how _I_ know about the place." And, discriminatingly, he selected a fresh cigar and lighted it.

"You--you don't mean they were really arrested?" I faltered.

He nodded grimly through a funnel of smoke. "How could they help being?

Why, dammit, they were too drunk to get away!" He settled in his seat with a scowl. "I can tell you it was all I could do to stave off expulsion!"

My jolly head spun. By Jove, Radcliffe girls must have moved on some since my day! Then they were coldly intellectual--went in strong for the earnest life, you know--the serious purpose existence--all that sort of thing. All of us looked on them with more or less awe--that is, except Smithers; he tried some intimate flirtations, one morning with a bunch in the Botanic Gardens and got stung. _He_ said they were "prunes."

But _Frances_--and "Spot" McGinty's! Surely I had not heard aright.

I faced him earnestly. "I--er--Judge Billings, do I understand you--that is, it can't be that you are speaking of--er--Frances?" I stammered incredulously. "I mean _your_ Frances--surely you are not!"

"I just am!" His jaw set with a snap. "Just who I'm talking about and n.o.body else, young man! I mean, _my_ Francis--Francis Leslie Billings--who else could I mean?" He almost groaned. "Oh, you don't _know_ Francis!"

Dash it, what they all chorused at me! They seemed pretty positive about it, too, and I was jolly miserable; but looking back now, I somehow think of that moment as being the point where I reached the parting of the what-you-call-'ems. Didn't know what to think, but knew I had to make up my mind right then and there--and for _always_, don't you know.

Knew, of course, that it was just pure _luck_ that Frances cared for me--realized jolly well I wasn't particularly clever and all that, you know; but _she_ didn't seem to mind. It was then that it came to me all of a sudden that the only dashed thing in all the world that I could give _her_, that she didn't seem to have already from somebody, was--well just _trust_.

And, by Jove, as soon as I got hold of this perfectly corking idea, I knew I had it for life, and--well, nothing else mattered in all the world, you know!

Meantime, her father was studying me a little oddly and smiling.

"I see you don't quite like what I say about Francis," he remarked, puffing complacently.

I looked him straight in the eye. "Frankly, I don't, if you must know,"

I blurted. Then I screwed my monocle tight and straightened forward. "By Jove, I think you ought to be ashamed of yourself, you know!"

"Wh--what's that?--_Lightnut!_" He turned a beet color and grasped the arms of his chair.

"Oh, I do." I stood up and he followed. "I think if that poor child had had a little--er--forbearance and kindness--that sort of thing--oh, dash it, I just think you've been infernally harsh always--yes, I do!"

"Well, I'll be--" He swallowed it, neck forward, and stood panting a bit. "_Harsh_, eh?" he jerked at me. "Um!" He stood there, his feet braced apart, his white brows beetling at the floor. "Harsh!" He c.o.c.ked his head on one side, thrusting out his heavy under-lip. Then came a sniff and a grunt, and oh, he looked black!

I was feeling devilish pale--you can, you know--and a little trembly from excitement. Wasn't quite sure what I had said, but knew jolly well I must have meant it, whatever it was. Knew, of course, that in another minute it would be his come-back and he would simply slay me. He would look at me coldly through his gla.s.ses, bow with dignity, and leave the room.

And then--

I wondered if Jenkins had a time-table!

And just then came a quick breath, and I caught a murmur: "I wonder now if, after all, that is true! By George, they say children and--" The mutter trailed off. "Here, here, my boy--sit down," he exclaimed suddenly; and he made me.

"I want to thank you, Lightnut," he said impressively. "It may be that you are right. Perhaps the better course would be gently to reason with Francis."

"Oh, Judge, I am sure of it," I urged feelingly.

"Well, well, my boy--we'll see." He patted me on the knee. "I'm going to try your way--by George, I'll do it to-night!" His eyes seemed to hold me with a more kindly and personal interest. "Do you know I can't tell you how glad I am that you find so much in Francis to like; indeed, I am _delighted_." Still studying me attentively, he musingly reached for a fresh light. "In point of fact, Lightnut, I am free to say I hope the intimacy begun between you two will grow closer. It would be a thundering good thing for Francis and a great comfort to me."

And, by Jove, he smiled at me--a devilish pleasant smile!

I sat up straight, uncrossed my legs and tried it over the other way.

Awfully helpful dodge, you know, when you are under some mental agitation.

He was looking at me through his lashes as he drew the flame to his cigar, and I knew that now was the time for me to speak. He _expected_ it--had deliberately given me an opening, and a prime one, and now--was waiting! Of course he couldn't know that I was so dashed inexperienced--unpractised, you know--in speaking to a girl's father and that I didn't even know the correct forms and usages. An out-and-out man of the world like Judge Billings just _couldn't_ understand this, don't you know, and to have him suspect the truth--oh, it would have been too mortifying--too _humiliating_, dash it!

So I just leaned forward and made a go:

"Thanks awfully; and--er--by the way--" Then I stuck, boggled wildly an instant and went on: "That is to say, this intimacy, you know--has it been too short to justify--" I gulped. "Er--would you be willing to trust--" And I lost the dashed idea again, floundered a bit and took another shy: "Oh, I say, you know, have I your permission to speak to Frances--er--_you_ know?"

"You speak to Francis?"--he just leaped toward me--"Why, my _boy_!" And he was wringing my arm with one hand while the other clasped my shoulder. "My _de-e-ear_ boy--why, Lightnut!" By Jove, he almost gushed!

"You're not joking now, are you?" He peered anxiously into my face. "No, by George, I believe you really mean it!" And he went to pumping like mad. "How awfully good of you--_self-sacrificing_ is the word! Are you quite sure you don't mind?"

"_Mind?_" By Jove, I think I looked what I felt at such a dashed silly question.

"Well! well! _well!_ My dear young friend!" And oh, he went on in the most disgusting way--why, dash it, you would have thought I was doing him some favor! I guessed, though, that it was the usual custom, but it seemed rum--for _I_ should have thought that in giving your daughter away, you put the thanks up to the other fellow. But Pugsley says the rule varies--quite often varies! Anyhow, I felt so gratified that I had taken the honorable course and spoken to her father--understand so many do not at all, you know. As it was, it gave me quite a comfortable glow of pride, and I reflected how much better it always is to follow the wise dictates of your what's-its-name!

"By Jove!" I thought, as I nodded and smiled back, "I wonder what he would say if he knew that Frances and I are _already_ engaged!"

CHAPTER XXV

THE FAMILY BLACK SHEEP

Presently I got in a word: