away. Why should we run away now? If
we did, we'd take ourselves with us wherever we went, wouldn't we? This
is as good a place to live out life as any I could have found. You
can't really evade things, you know."

"As though I asked to! I'd rather fight things than evade them."

"I think so," said his mother mournfully. "I suppose that's true."

"But you've got to be happy, mother," said he, again taking her hand in
his. "I'll _make_ you happy. I'm ready to work for you now--I'll pay you
back."

"And Miss Julia?" smiled his mother. "It was she who told you the news,
you know, and you didn't obey her--you came against orders."

"Why, yes, of course. She's been so awfully good to you. I know what
she's been, be sure of that." (As though he did know!)

"Don't be too bitter, Don," said Miss Julia Delafield, slowly now,
hoping only to salve a wound she felt he might have, yet not sure
herself what the wound might be. "Don't be unrelenting. Why, it seems to
me, as we grow older and begin to read and think, we find out the best
of life is just being--well, being charitable--just forgetting. Nothing
matters so very much, Don. That's doctrine, isn't it?"

Don Lane never finished what reply he might have made. There came yet
another interruption, yet another footfall on the little walk without,
following the clash of the crippled gate as it swung to. It was a man's
footfall which they heard on the gallery. They all rose now as Aurora
threw open the door.

It was the solemn visage of Joel Tarbush, the town marshal, which met
Aurora Lane.

"How do you do, Mr. Tarbush?" asked she. "Won't you come in?"

The gentleman accosted gave a quick glance up the street and down.

"I'm a married man," said he, with something of a vile grin on his face
as he looked at her.

She answered him only with the level gaze of her own eyes, and pushed
open the door. He followed her in, hesitatingly, and then saw the others
in the little room.

"Ma'am," said he, "I come to summons you to the justice court this
afternoon."

"Yes," said Aurora Lane. "Why?"

"It's that Adamson case," said he--"he knows." He turned now to the tall
figure of Dieudonne Lane, instinctively stepping back as he did so.

"In what way do you want us?" asked Don Lane now. "As witnesses? My
mother----?"

"I want your--your _ma_ as a witness, yes," said Tarbush, grinning,
"since you've said it. For you, you'll have to come along on charge of
resisting a officer;