 legitimate work of this prospective son-in-law of his,
for whose ideas he had no respect and of whose nature he had no understanding.
So he turned the conversation to Herbert Spencer. Judge Blount ably seconded
him, and Martin, whose ears had pricked at the first mention of the
philosopher's name, listened to the judge enunciate a grave and complacent
diatribe against Spencer. From time to time Mr. Morse glanced at Martin, as much
as to say, »There, my boy, you see.«
    »Chattering daws,« Martin muttered under his breath and went on talking with
Ruth and Arthur.
    But the long day and the real dirt of the night before were telling upon
him; and, besides, still burning in his mind was what had made him angry when he
read it on the car.
    »What is the matter?« Ruth asked suddenly, alarmed by the effort he was
making to contain himself.
    »There is no god but the Unknowable, and Herbert Spencer is its prophet,«
Judge Blount was saying at that moment.
    Martin turned upon him.
    »A cheap judgment,« he remarked quietly. »I heard it first in the City Hall
Park, on the lips of a workingman who ought to have known better. I have heard
it often since, and each time the clap-trap of it nauseates me. You ought to be
ashamed of yourself. To hear that great and noble man's name upon your lips is
like finding a dew-drop in a cesspool. You are disgusting.«
    It was like a thunderbolt. Judge Blount glared at him with apoplectic
countenance, and silence reigned. Mr. Morse was secretly pleased. He could see
that his daughter was shocked. It was what he wanted to do - to bring out the
innate ruffianism of this man he did not like.
    Ruth's hand sought Martin's beseechingly under the table, but his blood was
up. He was inflamed by the intellectual pretence and fraud of those who sat in
the high places. A Superior Court Judge! It was only several years before that
he had looked up from the mire at such glorious entities and deemed them gods.
    Judge Blount recovered himself and attempted to go on, addressing himself to
Martin with an assumption of politeness that the latter understood was for the
benefit of the ladies. Even this added to his anger. Was there no honesty in the
world?
    »You can't discuss Spencer with me,« he cried. »You do not know any more
about Spencer than do his own countrymen.
