e in the divine rights of kings and--Judges. I'd hate to
see you carry a basket. It would rob you of something--just as I would
hate to see a king without his crown or a queen without her scepter."

"Oh, Mary, Mary, your father has never said things like that to me."

"He doesn't feel them. Father believes in The God of Things as They
are----"

"And don't you?"

"I believe in you," she rose and carrying her sleeping child, crossed
the stream on the stones as easily as if she carried no burden; "you
know I believe in you, don't you--and in all the Bannisters?"

It was said so lightly that he took it lightly. No one was so touchy as
the Judge about his dignity if it were disregarded. But here was little
Mary smiling up at him and telling him that he was a king with a crown
and she liked it.

"Well, well. Let's sit down, Mary."

"Fish, if you want to, and I'll watch."

He baited his hook and cast his line into the stream. It had a bobbing
red cork which fascinated Fiddle-dee-dee. She tried to wade out and get
it, and had to be held by her very short skirts lest she drown in the
attempt.

"So I'm a confounded autocrat," the Judge chuckled. "Nobody ever said
that to me before, but maybe some of them have been thinking it."

"Maybe they have," said Mary gravely, "but they haven't really cared.
Having the Bannisters at Huntersfield is like the English having a
Victoria or an Edward or a George at Buckingham Palace or at Windsor; it
adds flavor to their--democracy----"

"Mary--who's been saying all this to you?" he demanded.

"My husband."

"Truelove Branch?"

She nodded.

"I'd like to meet him, by Jove, I'd like to meet him. He has been
teaching his wife to poke fun at her old friend----"

She faced him fearlessly. "I'm not poking fun. I--I'd hate to have the
Bannisters lose one little bit of their beautiful traditions. I--I----
Some day I'm going to teach little Fiddle those traditions, and tell her
what it means when--when people have race back of them. You see, I
haven't it, Judge, but I know what it's worth."

He was touched by her earnestness. "My dear Mary," he said, "I wish my
own grandson looked at it that way. His letters of late have been very
disturbing."

A little flush crept into her cheeks. "Disturbing?"

"He writes that we Americans have got to fit our practice to our
theories. He says that we shout democracy and practice autocracy. That
we don't believe that all men are free and equal,