ng cheeks. "Hannah's
impertinent," she murmured.

Judge Trent had read something of disapproval in Miss Lacey's glance as
she greeted him a few minutes ago, and he thought of her now as he sat
tilted back, his thumbs hooked easily in his arm holes, while he
watched the glistening dampness dry from his shoes.

"Martha probably disapproved because I didn't have on my rubbers," he
thought, an inward jerk acknowledging the humor of the situation. He
had not spoken often with Martha Lacey for many a year. Twenty-five
springs had rolled by now since he proposed to her. She had hesitated
for a week or so, and then, some difference arising between them, she
had refused him. He had led a busy life since then, absorbed in his
profession of the law, and had won more than local fame. When recently
he decided to take some one into his office and, as he put it, ease up
on himself, John Dunham, Harvard graduate, recently admitted to the
bar, thought himself a lucky man to get the position even though it
exchanged Boston for life in a neighboring rural city.

"Plenty of trains for Boston every day," Judge Trent had said when the
young fellow arrived. "If either one of us doesn't like the arrangement
you can take one any hour, and no harm done."

That was less than a month ago, but already Calvin Trent had changed
his mind. Should he lose young Dunham, he would regret it.

He regarded John now as the clean-shaven profile bent over a lengthy
document. The judge had the small man's admiration for the stature and
build of his assistant. He liked the sunshine of his smile, the steady
gaze of his eyes. The young man's personality had impressed him from
the first; but it was after the judge had proved the temper of his mind
and quickness of his perception that he allowed these physical
advantages to take their place as valuable assets.

"The boy's well born, and well raised," he said to himself. "I suppose
he's some kind of a fool, he's too young not to be; but there's no sign
of it yet."

It was very pleasant not to have to hurry to the office in the morning,
and not to be obliged to furnish all the brains that were supposed to
be accessible in this home of the law.

After a few minutes' silence Judge Trent looked up again from his
steaming shoes.

"Ever been in love, Dunham?" he asked suddenly.

The young lawyer raised his eyes, with evident effort to bring his
attention from the subject in hand, and regarded the quaint face and