Witherspoon was sitting in his office at the Colossus when Henry entered.  Papers were piled upon the merchant’s desk, but he regarded them not.  A boy stood near as if waiting for orders, but Witherspoon took no heed of him.  He sat in a reverie, and as Henry entered he started as if rudely aroused from sleep.

“Have you heard the verdict?” Henry asked.

“By telephone,” Witherspoon answered.  “Sit down.”

“No, I must get over to the office.  What do you think of the verdict?”

“If the law’s satisfied I am,” Witherspoon answered.  “But you wanted him hanged, didn’t you?” he added.

“No, but I wanted him punished.  The truth is, I hated the fellow almost from the first.”

Witherspoon turned to the boy and asked:  “What do you want?  Oh, did I ring for you?  Well, you may go.”  And then he spoke to Henry:  “You hated him.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because he is a villain.”

“But if you hated him from the first, you hated him before you found out that he was a villain; and that was snap judgment.  I try a man before I condemn him.”

“And I let a man condemn himself, and some men do this the minute I see them.”

“But a quick judgment is nearly always wrong.”

“Yes, and yet it’s better than a slow judgment that allows itself to be imposed upon.”

“Sometimes,” Witherspoon agreed; and after a short silence he added:  “I was just thinking of how that fellow imposed on me, but I can’t quite get at the cause of my worry over him, and I don’t understand why I should have been afraid that he could ruin me.  I want to ask you something, and I want you to tell me the exact truth without fear of giving offense:  Have you ever thought that at times my mind was unbalanced?  Have you?”

“You haven’t been well, and a sick man’s mind is never sound, you know.”

“That’s all true enough; but do I remind you very much of your uncle Andrew?”

“Yes, when you worry.”

“I thought so.  I’ve got to stop worrying; and I believe that we have more control over ourselves than we exercise.  Come back at noon and we’ll go out together.”

“I’ll be here,” Henry replied.

Just before he reached the office Henry met John Richmond, and together they stepped into a cigar-store.

“I’ve been over to your office,” said Richmond.  “I have important business with you.”

“All right, John.  Business with you is a pleasure.”

“I think this will be.  This is the last day of September, and relying on my recollection, I know that black bass are about ready to begin their fall campaign.  So I thought we’d better get on a train early to-morrow morning and go out into Lake County.  Now don’t say you are too busy, for I’m running away from a stack of work as high as my head.”

“I’ll go.”

“Good.  We’ll have a glorious day in the woods.  We’ll forget Brother Brooks and the fanatic who saved his life; we’ll float on the lake; well pick up nuts; we’ll listen to the controversy of the blue jays, and the flicker, flicker of the yellowhammers; we’ll study Mr. Woodpecker, whose judgment tells him to go south, but who is held back by the promising sunshine.  The train leaves at eight.  I’ll be on hand, and don’t you fail.”