going back again and trying to find out what she--a--eh?"

"Aren't _you_ quite sure?" Dunham stood with his feet apart and a broad
grin on his countenance.

The judge rose and shook himself.

"I've got those papers ready, Dunham. It might be well for you to take
them over to the office and register them; and as you pass through you
may ask Miss Lacey to step in here."

John Dunham composed his countenance, took his hat and the papers, and
started on his errand.

Entering the outer room, he paused before Miss Lacey to give his
message, and she lifted a small paper parcel that lay in her lap.

"Don't be worried about your handkerchief," she said. "I'm going to
take it home and wash it."

"Oh, I beg you won't trouble yourself," exclaimed the young man.

"I shall. You soiled it for me."

Dunham bit his lip. The query flitted through his mind as to whether
Miss Lacey had ever been successfully contradicted.

"When Sir Walter Raleigh flung down his coat for a queen to walk upon,
history doesn't say that Elizabeth sent it to the dry-cleaners," he
remarked.

"That just shows how different two old maids can act," returned Miss
Lacey.

Dunham laughed and bowed. "I don't believe the difference would
continue throughout," he said. "I fancy you and Queen Bess have lots of
points in common."

With this he took his departure, and Martha Lacey rose and passed into
the inner room where Judge Trent waited, grimly wondering at that burst
of laughter which he saw reflected on his visitor's lips as she
entered.

She advanced and shook hands with him. "How do you do, Calvin? That
isn't any fool you've taken into your office."

"Won't you have a chair?" offering Dunham's. "I wasn't looking for a
fool when I engaged him. Perhaps that explains it."

"You have your hat on, Calvin," remarked Miss Lacey, as she accepted
the seat after an investigating sweep of her gloved finger.

"I beg your pardon," returned the disconcerted lawyer, removing his hat
and setting it reluctantly on his desk. Then he, too, sat down, passing
his hand over his scanty locks.

"Your furniture in the next room is shockingly soiled," she went on.
"Why don't you have Hannah come with some good flannel rags and tepid
water and ivory soap and furniture polish?"

"It is so old, I don't believe it's worth the trouble," returned the
judge pacifically.

"Well, it isn't my place to say you ought to have new; but do look at
it the next time you go out th