"It's about Tom."
The judge looked troubled.
"Don't say you won't before you hear me out. Is he—is Tom out of harm's way?"
"I hope so," said Judge Tyler, his mind reverting with a twinge of agony to certain breakables in the dining-room.
"Then that's all right," said the lady. "Judge Tyler, what is to become of Tom if I die?"
That sort of sudden question is always difficult to answer, and painful.
"If you would care to put me in possession of the facts," said Judge Tyler, "we could then perhaps talk of your son with better mutual understanding."
"That would be better," said the lady. "But you will let me do it my own way, won't you? It makes it so much harder if you ask questions. It's hard enough, anyway."
The judge looked at his watch.
"I can give you just an hour," he said,
