After a matter of two or three months bad passed away in this pleasant though unprofitable manner, the Honourable Hilary requested the presence of his son one morning at his office.  This office was in what had once been a large residence, and from its ample windows you could look out through the elms on to the square.  Old-fashioned bookcases lined with musty books filled the walls, except where a steel engraving of a legal light or a railroad map of the State was hung, and the Honourable Hilary sat in a Windsor chair at a mahogany table in the middle.

The anteroom next door, where the clerks sat, was also a waiting-room for various individuals from the different parts of the State who continually sought the counsel’s presence.

“Haven’t seen much of you since you’ve be’n home, Austen,” his father remarked as an opening.

“Your—­legal business compels you to travel a great deal,” answered Austen, turning from the window and smiling.

“Somewhat,” said the Honourable Hilary, on whom this pleasantry was not lost.  “You’ve be’n travelling on the lumber business, I take it.”

“I know more about it than I did,” his son admitted.

The Honourable Hilary grunted.

“Caught a good many fish, haven’t you?”

Austen crossed the room and sat on the edge of the desk beside his father’s chair.

“See here, Judge,” he said, “what are you driving at?  Out with it.”

“When are you—­going back West?” asked Mr. Vane.

Austen did not answer at once, but looked down into his father’s inscrutable face.

“Do you want to get rid of me?” he said.

“Sowed enough wild oats, haven’t you?” inquired the father.

“I’ve sowed a good many,” Austen admitted.

“Why not settle down?”

“I haven’t yet met the lady, Judge,” replied his son.

“Couldn’t support her if you had,” said Mr. Vane.

“Then it’s fortunate,” said Austen, resolved not to be the necessary second in a quarrel.  He knew his father, and perceived that these preliminary and caustic openings of his were really olive branches.

“Sometimes I think you might as well be in that outlandish country, for all I see of you,” said the Honourable Hilary.

“You ought to retire from business and try fishing,” his son suggested.

The Honourable Hilary sometimes smiled.

“You’ve got a good brain, Austen, and what’s the use of wasting it chasing cattle and practising with a pistol on your fellow-beings?  You won’t have much trouble in getting admitted to the bar.  Come into the office.”

Austen did not answer at once.  He suspected that it had cost his father not a little to make these advances.

“Do you believe you and I could get along, Judge?  How long do you think it would last?”

“I’ve considered that some,” answered the Honourable Hilary, “but I won’t last a great while longer myself.”