“Great Jove!” exclaimed the judge, in unbounded astonishment.  “It was raving madness in you to refuse the plaintiff’s brief; but to accept the defendant’s—­”

“I did not only accept it—­I went and asked for it,” said Ishmael, smiling.

“Mad! mad!  You will lose your first case; and that will throw back your success for years!”

“I hope not, sir.  ‘Thrice is he armed who hath his quarrel just,’” smiled Ishmael.

At the luncheon table that day the judge told the story of Ishmael’s quixotism, as he called it, in refusing the brief and the thumping fee of the plaintiff, who had the law all on his side; and whom his counsel would be sure to bring through victoriously; and taking in hand the course of the defendant, who had no money to pay her counsel, no law on her side, and who was bound to be defeated.

“But she has justice and mercy on her side; and it shall go hard but I prove the law on her side, too.”

“A forlorn hope, Ishmael, a forlorn hope!” said Mr. Middleton.

“Forlorn hopes are always led by heroes, papa,” said Bee.

“And fools!” blurted out Judge Merlin.

Ishmael did not take offense, he knew all that was said was well meant; the judge talked to him with the plainness of a parent; and Ishmael rather enjoyed being affectionately blown up by Claudia’s father.

Miss Merlin now looked up, and condescended to say: 

“I am very sorry, Ishmael, that you refused the rich client; he might have been the making of you.”

“The making of Ishmael.  With the blessing of Heaven, he will make himself!  I am very glad he refused the oppressor’s gold!” exclaimed Bee, before Ishmael could reply.

When Bee ceased to speak, he said: 

“I am very sorry, Miss Merlin, to oppose your sentiments in any instance, but in this I could not do otherwise.”

“It is simply a question of right or wrong.  If the man’s cause was bad, Ishmael was right to refuse his brief; if the woman’s cause was good, he was right to take her brief,” said Mrs. Middleton, as they all arose from the table.

That evening Ishmael found himself by chance alone in the drawing room with Bee.

He was standing before the front window, gazing sadly into vacancy.  The carriage, containing Miss Merlin, Lord Vincent, and Mrs. Middleton as chaperone, had just rolled away from the door.  They were going to a dinner party at the President’s.  And Ishmael was gazing sadly after them, when Bee came up to his side and spoke: 

“I am very glad, Ishmael, that you have taken sides with the poor mother; it was well done.”

“Thank you, dear Bee!  I hope it was well done; I do not regret doing it; but they say that I have ruined my prospects.”