ing from behind the stove.
She looked at Dainton and the blood swept over her face.

"Excuse me for interrupting ... but your little girl is still in the
room, Mr. Dainton," she said.

The lawyer jumped up and drew a protesting Emerald from her horsehair
coign of vantage.

"Please, pa ... _lemme_ stay!" she whined. "_I_ might have to get
divorced some time. I want to see how you fix it up. _Please_, pa!"

Mr. Dainton whispered fiercely that he'd "smack her if she didn't shut
up that minute." Father and daughter disappeared into another room. Then
the father reappeared alone, and the case of Loring v. Loring
proceeded....

When it was all over and Mr. Wogram had taken his leave with jerky bows
to friend and foe alike, Mr. Dainton turned to Sophy, with a curious
reminiscence of the facetious manner in which one addresses brides, and
said:

"Allow me to congratulate you ... Mrs. _Chesney_!"

Judge Boiler did likewise.

Sophy had one dreadful moment of fear, regret, grief, distaste--the
awful vertigo of the irrevocable. She tried to smile conventionally. Sue
slipped an arm through hers, held her close without seeming to do so,
and talked for her--nice, easy, well-sounding commonplaces. While she
was thus talking, Mr. Dainton stalked to the inner door and, flinging it
open, called jocosely:

"Come along in, Maldy. The knot's untied...."

Emerald sidled in, looking sulky but curious. She eyed Sophy a moment,
then said in a loud whisper:

"Is she really divorced?"

"Sure thing," replied her parent

"You did it quick as that, pa? Truly?"

"Truly," said he.

"My!" exclaimed Emerald, overcome with admiration. "I guess it takes
longer to hitch 'em up than to unhitch 'em, when _you_ do the
unhitching, pa!"

Then she skipped over to Sophy, and clung to her hand again. Her
green-hazel eyes devoured the tall, pale lady's face. She was fairly
a-quiver to participate in the emotions of the divorced heroine.

"Well...." she said. "Now you're _un_-married. Are you happy?"

Sue looked like a hawk about to pounce, but Sophy answered quietly:

"I really don't know, Emerald," she said.

"But you ain't _sorry_ you did it, are you?" persisted the child.

This was too much for the patience of a childless woman. Miss Pickett
took Miss Dainton by the hand and led her firmly to her father.

"Please explain to your little girl,", said she, "that there are some
occasions where children should not be seen, much less heard.