latter answered quickly. "We change. Read First
Corinthians, seventh chapter, and if you take Paul's advice and don't
pass the Rubicon, then you 'll be free to change as often as you
please."

Dunham looked up again. "Are you a Bible student, Judge Trent?"

"Student of everything," returned the lawyer, with a short wave of his
thin hand.

"All books except woman's looks, eh?" answered Dunham, returning to his
papers.

"I said I had no successors," remarked the judge, regarding his gaiters
musingly. "I'm not at all sure of that. Miss--Martha was a very
attractive woman. My impression is that in any case she preferred to
concentrate all her faculties upon watching to see that I didn't get
into mischief."

"That's faithfulness, I'm sure," returned Dunham. "The necessity for
building those kitchen fires wouldn't exist now," he added
suggestively.

"Young man, no levity," returned the judge.

There was silence for a few minutes, broken only by the turning of the
crisp papers as Dunham continued his researches. At last the telephone
bell rang and Dunham answered it. As he hung up the receiver Judge
Trent spoke:--

"Just call up the railway station, will you, and secure a chair for me
in the nine o'clock train for Boston Wednesday morning?"

John obeyed, and as he returned to his desk his employer continued:--

"I may need your advice on Wednesday's business, Dunham."

"My advice?" returned the young man, with interest. "Is it in the Evans
case?"

"No," dryly; "it isn't in the Evans case. It's a case of a girl." The
judge scowled at his gaiters and pushed his hat askew. "Hang it, I
don't know anything about girls."

The young lawyer waited, his elbows on his desk.

"Anything that I can do, of course," he said at last.

"Have you any sisters?"

"No."

"Confound you," returned the other impatiently. "What do you know about
it, then?"

"Nearly all there is to know," responded Dunham modestly.

"The conventionalities, the proprieties? Where and how girls may live
and where and how they can't, for instance? Unattached girls whose
relatives don't want them, for I'd like to bet her aunt won't receive
her, and if I should go out of my way to urge it she'd probably turn on
me and tell me to take my own medicine."

"I'd do my best," returned John, when the exasperated tones had
subsided.

"What's the use of obeying St. Paul if your family won't?" went on the
lawyer irritably. "What's the good of avoiding gi