st rescue of Joe Newbolt from his
overhanging peril. He was voluble in his declarations that they would
"put the screws" to Ollie on the charge of perjury. Sim would have kept
his own mouth sealed under like circumstances, and it was beyond him to
understand why his daughter had less discretion than her parent. So he
bore down on the solemn declaration that she stood face to face with a
prison term for perjury.

Sim had made so much of this that Ollie and her mother were watching
that night out in fear and trembling, sitting huddled together in a
little room with the peak of the roof in the ceiling, a lamp burning
between them on the stand. Their arms lay listlessly in their laps, they
turned their heads in quick starts at the sound of every footfall on the
board walk, or when the wind swung the loose-jointed gate and flung it
against its anchorings. They were waiting for the sheriff to come and
carry Ollie away to jail.

In front of Sim Harrison's house there was a little porch, not much
bigger than a hand held slantingly against its weathered side, and in
the shadow of it one who had approached unheard by the anxious watchers
through the blustering night, stood fumbling for the handle of a bell.
But Sim Harrison's door was bald of a bell handle, as it was bare of
paint, and now a summons sounded on its thin panel, and went roaring
through the house like a blow on a drum.

Mrs. Harrison looked meaningly at Ollie; Ollie nodded, understandingly.
The summons for which they had waited had come. The older woman rose in
resigned determination, went below and opened the door.

"It is Judge Maxwell," said the dark figure which stood large and
fearful in Mrs. Harrison's sight. "I have come to see Mrs. Chase."

"Yes, sir; I'll call her," said the trembling woman.

Ollie had heard from the top of the stairs. She was descending in the
darkness, softly. She spoke as her mother turned from the door.

"I was expecting you--some of you," said she.

"Very well, then," said Judge Maxwell, wondering if that mysterious
voice had worked another miracle. "Get your wraps and come with me."

Mrs. Harrison began to groan and wail. Couldn't they let the poor child
stay there till morning, under her own mother's roof? It was a wild and
terrible night, and Lord knew the poor, beaten, bruised, and weary bird
would not fly away!

"Save your tears, madam, until they are needed," said the judge, not
feeling that he was called upon to expla