change not produced by what Peewee just had told him. When he had seen Beman last the old man had looked triumphant. He did not look that way now; he looked irritated and bothered.
Beman pressed the bell. "Take him away," he directed when the servant came. "Keep an eye on him this time." He gazed down thoughtfully at Peewee. "It's a dam good thing," he commenced, "that you came back."
Peewee, as the servant led him from the room, twisted his head to gaze back questioningly at the old man. He could not have told why he had expected his father to do nothing against Lampert and had been hopeful of result from Beman. The sidewalks which, since babyhood, had poured their crowds past him had taught him to judge men instinctively, and he had felt, without being able to make it definite in thought, that his father could fight only with his own weapons, while Beman by preference used the weapons of his opponent and was honest with honest men, crooked with crooks. He had not known what he anticipated from
