er this morning and ask your wife if she could help Mandy.
Mandy's all right when there's nobody but the family, but when there's
company in prospect she moans and groans."

"Mollie's up at the Watermans'; Mrs. Waterman is worse. They expected to
take her to New York, but she is too ill, and they are going to have the
doctors bring another nurse."

"I had a note from Mr. Dalton," said the Judge, "saying they were going.
It was rather sudden, and he was sorry. Nice fellow. He liked to come
over and look at my birds."

Bob Flippin's eyes twinkled. "I reckon he liked to look at a pretty
girl----"

The Judge stared at him. "At Becky?"

Flippin nodded. "Didn't you know it?"

"Bless my soul." The Judge was unquestionably startled. "But I don't
know anything about him. I can't have him running after Becky."

"Seems to me he's been a-runnin'."

"But what would Claudia say? I don't know anything about his family.
Maybe he hasn't any family. How do I know he isn't a fortune-hunter?"

"Well, he isn't a bird hunter, I can tell you that. I saw him kick one
of your dogs. A man that will kick a dog isn't fit to hold a gun."

"No, he isn't," said the Judge, soberly. "I'm upset by what you've said,
Flippin. Dalton's all right as far as I can see as a friend of mine. But
when anybody comes courting at Huntersfield he's got to show
credentials."

He ate his lunch without much appetite. He was guiltily aware of what
Claudia would say if she knew what had happened.

But perhaps nothing had happened and perhaps she need not know. He
cheered up and threw a bit of ham to the waiting dogs. Perhaps Becky
wasn't interested. Perhaps, after all, Dalton had been genuine in his
interest in the stuffed birds.

"Becky's too young for things like that," he began hopefully.

But Bob Flippin shook his head. "Girls are queer, Judge, and you never
can tell what they're goin' to do next. Now, there's my Mary--running
off and getting married, and coming home and not talking much about it.
She--didn't even bring her marriage certificate. Said that he had kept
it. But she's never lied to me, and I know when she says she's married,
she's--married--but it's queer. He ain't written now for weeks, but she
ain't worried. She says she knows the reason, but she can't tell me. And
when I try to ask questions, she just looks me straight in the eye and
says, 'I never lied to you, Father, did I? And it's all right.'"

"He has a good name," said the Judge