Only Judge Simmons was in, and his manner towards his visitor was chilling, to say the least of it. Mr. Field could not get rid of the impression that the American was trying to read him like some enigmatical book, of which the title-page had given him a distaste. It was with feelings of relief that he once more found himself leaning back in his car, and speeding swiftly down the long avenue.
"Queer fellow, that judge," he mused. "I was rather an idiot to run my head against him unnecessarily. I'd sooner have his room than his company any day."
It was not till Julius came to say good-night that his father deigned to take notice of him again.
"Well, what have you been doing with yourself, my boy?" he said. "I've hardly set eyes on you since morning. Been up to any mischief, eh?"
"I wish I had," answered Julius, "but I've no such luck. It's awfully dull, father, playing all alone."
"Nonsense!" said Mr. Field. "You've got everything and more than any sensible fellow can wish. I hope you've not been dangling after that strange lad that I warned you against, Julius?" he added sharply, eyeing the doleful face before him.
"No," was the answer. "I haven't seen him again."
"Good boy," said his father. "Keep yourself to yourself till you find someone worthy of you. That's sound advice. Go to bed and sleep upon it."
As Julius lay that night restlessly tossing to and fro, did the angels gaze in pity upon the poor ignorant child?
"I know God saw, and God heard," he murmured to himself. "I believe He's looking down at me now. I want to shut out His eye, but I can't. I know He can see even in the dark."