"Really, father," she said, "I think I may hope to win you yet. When a judge, and a Republican at that, finds it hard to vindicate his party's doings, and finds statistics overwhelmingly against his party's policy on moral questions, he will look for better things in better places. At this period of his political transmigration I believe a man is more to be pitied for misplaced confidence than blamed for tardy understanding. No, father, not a statistic to-night, unless you compel me to bring them out in self-defense."
Judge Thorn slowly released his book.
"Now," said Jean triumphantly, "we are ready for a nice long talk, that is, if you feel equal to the task of talking. What I have to say will not take long. It is about a little interview between Mr. Allison and—Judge Thorn's daughter, and if I had been less of a 'crank,' I suppose you would have had another son-in-law in prospect."
"Yes?" questioned the judge. "Then I have been mistaken when I have thought at times that you cared for him."
Jean remained silent a few minutes, then looked up quickly into her father's face.
"You are my best, my dearest friend, father. I will tell you truly. You have not been mistaken. I love Gilbert Allison, and I cannot help it to save my life."
When Judge Thorn spoke again his voice had changed somewhat. He spoke as if his words were escaping from beneath a weight.
"Better than you do me, Jean?"
She did not answer at once; then she caught her father's eye, and smiled as she said: