The perfume of her presence, the rustling of her departure, the husky depth of her voice haunting his memory, the vast vistas through which the mind of the country boy fared forth venturesomely, impelled by the new contacts of this town in which he had undertaken to scale the citadel of professional success—all these militated against the sober enticements of the law of corporations; and when Judge Thornton entered unheard, John Smith started as though detected in some offense.
"The law," said the judge, launching the hoary quotation, "is a jealous mistress."
John Smith blushed, but saw no lodgment for a denial where there was no accusation. He had been allowing his thoughts to go wool-gathering; but now he began questioning the judge on the doctrine of the rights of minority stock-holders. The judge condescended to a five-minute lecture which would have been costly had it been given for a client before the court. In the midst of the talk there bustled in a young man—a boy, in fact, who accosted the lawyer familiarly.
"Just a minute, Judge. About that mass-meeting Tuesday—I'm Johnson of the News, you know. Will you speak?"
"I don't think the readers of the News are lying awake about it," answered the judge, looking at the boy amusedly. "But my present intentions go no further than to attend the meeting."
"What about the movement for cheaper gas?" asked the reporter. "Will the meeting start anything?"
"The meeting," said the judge, "will be a law unto itself."
"Sure," replied Johnson of the News. "But a word from you as to the extortions of the gas company—"
"Will be addressed to the meeting—if I have any," said the judge. "I—"
"Oh, all right!" interrupted the boy. "That's what I wanted! Good-by!"