utting herself up in this uncanny way. It is uncanny,
even if she is in trouble. Minna Randall taking to church work, and
sewing for hours at a time, and taking long drives with her husband.
They haven't been inside the Colonel's doors for weeks. Their second
girl told our Mary that they have refused five invitations there in the
last month. It's my idea that he gave that last stag dinner because he
couldn't get Minna or Edith there, or any woman. Why should his own
circle turn against him, just when he's doing real good to the town? And
it's not only his own circle that's against him. I was matching curtains
at Ward's when Sebastian came in to-day, and Luther Ward was barely
civil to him--the Colonel's own secretary. What's wrong with the town,
Hugh? Can't it be grateful to the Colonel, now when he really deserves
it?"

"Don't worry about what Everard deserves. He's not likely to get it,
Millie."

Again the Judge was closing the subject, and this time his wife had no
more to say. She gave his threadbare, scrupulously pressed coat a final
pat and jerk of adjustment, and stood off and looked at him.

"You'll do," she said, "now go along. The music's stopping. It won't
look well if you're late."

She turned off the flickering gas jet above the marble-topped bureau
abruptly, but not before the Judge had caught the gleam of tears in her
eyes.

"Why girl," he said, and came close to her and slipped an arm round her
plump, comfortable waist. "You're really troubled."

"Yes."

"And vexed with me for not helping you."

"Yes."

He had drawn her toward a front window of the big, square room. The
Judge and his wife stood by it quietly, looking down through a triangle
of white, starched curtains at the glimmering, sparsely lit length of
street below, and straightening out their difficulties in darkness and
silence, as all true lovers should, even lovers at fifty, as these two
were fortunate enough to be.

"Millie, I don't want to tease you," the Judge said. "I'll tell you
anything you want to know."

"I've been so worried," she wept comfortably against his shoulder. "I'm
so afraid."

"Why?"

"I feel as if something--anything might happen. I--oh, you'll only
laugh. I can't just tell you, Hugh."

"I'll tell you," said the Judge.

He hesitated and then went on slowly, speaking more to himself than to
her.

"Women hate change. That makes them dread it, even when it's not coming.
You're dreading it, but it's not