at all," returned the visitor; "I'm not Mrs. You go into the
office, please, and tell Judge Trent that Miss Martha Lacey would like
to see him on important business."

Dunham nodded; but his head had scarcely regained the perpendicular
when the name began to impress him. "Martha." "Pizen-neat." He bit his
lip, and without venturing again to meet Miss Lacey's cool, incisive
gaze he turned and vanished into the inner office.

CHAPTER II

MARTHA LACEY

Judge Trent was sitting at his desk scowling at his work with
concentration when his assistant tiptoed to his side, his face sternly
repressed and his eyes dancing.

"Miss Martha Lacey wishes to see you, Judge."

The latter looked up with such suddenness as to endanger the situation
of the high hat. "Who?" he demanded.

"Sh!" advised Dunham. "Miss Martha Lacey."

Judge Trent placed his hand on his assistant's arm as he stared up at
him. "I guess you got the name wrong, Boy," he returned, in a hushed
tone.

The young lawyer shook his head solemnly, but his lips refused
solemnity. "Miss Martha Lacey," he repeated slowly.

His senior frowned. "These offices are badly planned, Dunham, badly
planned. There is no back entrance."

"Exit, do you mean?" asked the other.

"What are you doing in here?" demanded the judge sternly, but careful
not to raise his voice. "It was your place to find out her business."

"That's what I thought. In fact, I told her so."

"Well, what is it, then? You go back. I empower you to act." As Judge
Trent spoke he pushed his young colleague with one bony hand.

"She won't have me," gurgled Dunham in a whisper. "She's going to wait
for you till the last trump, and while she's waiting she says she'll
revise Blackstone."

The judge did not smile. He suddenly relaxed throughout his slight
frame. "That's Martha," he replied, "you haven't made any mistake. And
she'd do it. Very capable woman. Very capable woman. Dunham, I want you
to understand," he continued, as he rose and straightened himself,
"that I respect that lady very highly."

"Oh, I do understand," responded Dunham. "She's a bright, observant
woman. She found the chairs dusty." He drew in his breath in a
noiseless whistle.

The little man looked up alertly under his shaggy brows. "They _were_
dusty, I dare say. You cleaned one for her, eh?"

"Yes, with my handkerchief. She didn't like it."

"Oh, no, she wouldn't like that. You are quite sure there'd be no use
in your