“No, I will leave you with your client, Ishmael, that he may explain his business at full length.  I have an engagement at the State Department, and I will go to keep it.”

And the judge bowed and left the room.

As soon as they were left alone Mr. Walsh began to explain his business, first saying that he presumed Judge Merlin had handed him the retaining fee and the brief.

“Yes; you will find both there on the table beside you, untouched,” answered Ishmael gravely.

“Ah, you have not had time yet to look at the brief.  No matter; we can go over it together,” said Mr. Walsh, taking up the document in question, and beginning to unfold it.

“I beg you will excuse me, sir; I would rather not look at the brief, as I cannot take the case,” said Ishmael.

“You cannot take the case?  Why, I understood from Judge Merlin that your time was not quite filled up; that you were not overwhelmed with cases, and that you could very well find time to conduct mine.  Can you not do so?”

“It is not a question of time or the pressure of business.  I have an abundance of the first and very little of the last.  In fact, sir, I have been but very recently admitted to the bar, and have not yet been favored with a single case; I am as yet a briefless lawyer.”

“Not briefless if you take my brief; for the judge speaks in the highest terms of your talents; and I know that a young barrister always bestows great care upon his first case,” said Mr. Walsh pleasantly.

“Pray excuse me, sir; but I decline the case.”

“But upon what ground?”

“Upon the ground of principle, sir.  I cannot array myself against a mother who is defending her right to the possession of her own babes,” said Ishmael gravely.

“Oh, I see! chivalric!  Well, that is very becoming in a young man.  But, bless you, my dear sir, you are mistaken in your premises.  I do not really wish to part the mother and children.  If you will give me your attention, I will explain—­” began the would-be client.

“I beg that you will not, sir; excuse me, I pray you; but as I really cannot take the case, I ought not to hear your statement.”

“Oh, nonsense, my young friend!  I know what is the matter with you; but when you have heard my statement, you will accept my brief,” said Walsh pleasantly, for, according to a well-known principle in human nature, he grew anxious to secure the services of the young barrister just in proportion to the difficulty of getting them.

And so, notwithstanding the courteous remonstrances of Ishmael, he commenced and told his story.

It was the story of an egotist so intensely egotistical as to be quite unconscious of his egotism; forever thinking of himself—­forever oblivious of others except as they ministered to his self-interest; filled up to the lips with the feeling of his rights and privileges; but entirely empty of any notion of his duties and responsibilities.  With him it was always “I,” “mine,” “me”; never “we,” “ours,” “us.”