"Well, what I want to say is this," resumed Twelve: "Even if there are
a lot of fools in the world, we can't see any reason why you should
ruin yourself by opposing them. You can't teach them anything, you
know."
"I am not trying to teach them anything." Trescott smiled wearily.
"I--It is a matter of--well--"
"And there are a good many of us that admire you for it immensely,"
interrupted Twelve; "but that isn't going to change the minds of all
those ninnies."
"It's the women," stated the advocate of this view again.
"Well, what I want to say is this," said Twelve. "We want you to get
out of this trouble and strike your old gait again. You are simply
killing your practice through your infernal pigheadedness. Now this
thing is out of the ordinary, but there must be ways to--to beat the
game somehow, you see. So we've talked it over--about a dozen of
us--and, as I say, if you want to tell us to mind our own business,
why, go ahead; but we've talked it over, and we've come to the
conclusion that the only way to do is to get Johnson a place somewhere
off up the valley, and--"
Trescott wearily gestured. "You don't know, my friend. Everybody is so
afraid of him, they can't even give him good care. Nobody can attend
to him as I do myself."
"But I have a little no-good farm up beyond Clarence Mountain that I
was going to give to Henry," cried Twelve, aggrieved. "And if you--and
if you--if you--through your house burning down, or anything--why, all
the boys were prepared to take him right off your hands, and--and--"
Trescott arose and went to the window. He turned his back upon them.
They sat waiting in silence. When he returned he kept his face in the
shadow. "No, John Twelve," he said, "it can't be done."
There was another stillness. Suddenly a man stirred on his chair.
"Well, then, a public institution--" he began.
"No," said Trescott; "public institutions are all very good, but he is
not going to one."
In the background of the group old Judge Hagenthorpe was thoughtfully
smoothing the polished ivory head of his cane.