the glass?" She straightened
herself, insolently conscious of her youth and strength. "I suppose
you think it would be cheaper to marry me than to keep a hired girl.
Everybody knows you're the closest man in Eagle County; but I guess
you're not going to get your mending done for you that way twice."

Mr. Royall did not move while she spoke. His face was ash-coloured and
his black eyebrows quivered as though the blaze of her scorn had blinded
him. When she ceased he held up his hand.

"That'll do--that'll about do," he said. He turned to the door and took
his hat from the hat-peg. On the threshold he paused. "People ain't been
fair to me--from the first they ain't been fair to me," he said. Then he
went out.

A few days later North Dormer learned with surprise that Charity had
been appointed librarian of the Hatchard Memorial at a salary of eight
dollars a month, and that old Verena Marsh, from the Creston Almshouse,
was coming to live at lawyer Royall's and do the cooking.

III

It was not in the room known at the red house as Mr. Royall's "office"
that he received his infrequent clients. Professional dignity and
masculine independence made it necessary that he should have a real
office, under a different roof; and his standing as the only lawyer of
North Dormer required that the roof should be the same as that which
sheltered the Town Hall and the post-office.

It was his habit to walk to this office twice a day, morning and
afternoon. It was on the ground floor of the building, with a separate
entrance, and a weathered name-plate on the door. Before going in
he stepped in to the post-office for his mail--usually an empty
ceremony--said a word or two to the town-clerk, who sat across the
passage in idle state, and then went over to the store on the opposite
corner, where Carrick Fry, the storekeeper, always kept a chair for him,
and where he was sure to find one or two selectmen leaning on the long
counter, in an atmosphere of rope, leather, tar and coffee-beans. Mr.
Royall, though monosyllabic at home, was not averse, in certain moods,
to imparting his views to his fellow-townsmen; perhaps, also, he was
unwilling that his rare clients should surprise him sitting, clerkless
and unoccupied, in his dusty office. At any rate, his hours there were
not much longer or more regular than Charity's at the library; the rest
of the time he spent either at the store or in driving about the country
on business conne