“Fair!” repeated the judge, with unutterable scorn.  “Good day, gentlemen.”  And he slammed the door behind them.

They walked down the street some distance before either of them spoke.

“Goliah,” said Mr. Dodd, at last, “did you ever hear such talk?  He’s got the drattedest temper of any man I ever knew, and he never callates to make a mistake.  It’s a little mite hard to do your duty when a man talks that way.”

“I’m not sure we’ve done it,” answered Mr. Hill.

“Not sure!” ejaculated the hardware dealer, for he was now far enough away from the judge’s house to speak in his normal tone, “and she connected with that depraved—­”

“Hold on,” said Mr. Hill, with an astonishing amount of spirit for him, “I’ve heard that before.”

Mr. Dodd looked at him, swallowed the wrong way and began to choke.

“You hain’t wavered, Jonathan?” he said, when he got his breath.

“No, I haven’t,” said Mr. Hill, sadly; “but I wish to hell I had.”

Mr. Dodd looked at him again, and began to choke again.  It was the first time he had known Jonathan Hill to swear.

“You’re a-goin’ to stick by what you agreed—­by your principles?”

“I’m going to stick by my bread and butter,” said Mr. Hill, “not by my principles.  I wish to hell I wasn’t.”

And so saying that gentleman departed, cutting diagonally across the street through the snow, leaving Mr. Dodd still choking and pulling at his tuft.  This third and totally-unexpected shaking-up had caused him to feel somewhat deranged internally, though it had not altered the opinions now so firmly planted in his head.  After a few moments, however, he had collected himself sufficiently to move on once more, when he discovered that he was repeating to himself, quite unconsciously, Mr. Hill’s profanity “I wish to hell I wasn’t.”  The iron mastiffs glaring at him angrily out of the snow banks reminded him that he was in front of Mr. Worthington’s door, and he thought he might as well go in at once and receive the great man’s gratitude.  He certainly deserved it.  But as he put his hand on the bell Mr. Worthington himself came out of the house, and would actually have gone by without noticing Mr. Dodd if he had not spoken.

“I’ve got that little matter fixed, Mr. Worthington,” he said, “called the committee, and we voted to discharge the—­the young woman.”  No, he did not deliver Judge Graves’s message.

“Very well, Mr. Dodd,” answered the great man, passing on so that Mr. Dodd was obliged to follow him in order to hear, “I’m glad you’ve come to your senses at last.  Kindly step into the library and tell Miss Bruce from me that she may fill the place to-morrow.”

“Certain,” said Mr. Dodd, with his hand to his chin.  He watched the great man turn in at his bank in the new block, and then he did as he was bid.