figure of his employer.

The vagueness of his stare caused the judge to stir and cough with some
embarrassment.

"Oh, no matter, of course. I just happened to think of it. When I was
your age I had it bad: thought if I couldn't have that one girl life
wouldn't be worth living." The speaker's foot slipped on the radiator,
and he readjusted his chair.

"Just happened to meet her out there a minute ago;" he jerked the tall
hat in the direction of the street.

"That must have been rather startling." Dunham had by this time
collected his ideas.

"Oh, no. We've both always lived here; she's kept tab on me ever since;
kind of puts the burden of proof on me to show that I can get along
without her, if you understand."

"And you've shown her, eh?"

"'M, pretty so-so."

"You've never married, I believe?"

John did not have to assume an interest. This spare little man was
small only in physique. He was an object of interest to any and every
ambitious young lawyer.

"No, never did." Judge Trent shook his head, and rocked his tilted
chair gently. "I might count up the number of kitchen fires I've
escaped building on cold winter mornings; the number of nocturnal
rambles I've escaped taking with shrieking infants doubled up with the
colic--and then there are my books! What would have become of my books!
My fair one was the pizen-neat kind. She would have dusted them and
driven me to drink!"

Dunham smiled. "And yet those are scarcely facts with which you can
reassure her," he remarked.

Judge Trent caught the younger man's eye with a sympathetic twinkle.

"Precisely; and the sad consequence is that she has never been entirely
reassured. Her name's against her, poor girl--Martha. Careful about
many things."

"Then you had no successor?"

"No, and affairs piled up. I had too much to attend to to renew the
attack. I didn't have time to smooth down her ruffled feathers, so--the
result is that we've each flocked alone. Just as well, just as well,"
continued the speaker, musingly. "What I was thinking of just now was
how many different lives we seem to live in one; how our tastes change;
and at best how few illusions are left to lawyers regarding marriage."

"In other words, you're a confirmed old bachelor. What was it you asked
me a minute ago--if I were in love?"

"Yes, or if you had been."

"Have been dozens of times,--am not," returned Dunham, with the smile
that his employer liked.

"Just so, just so," the