alertness.

"Edna Derwent."

"Of Commonwealth Avenue?"

"Yes. What's the matter?"

"Nothing. I am only surprised that your calling list includes her."

"Well, now, why should you be?"

"No reason, of course," returned John, smiling, "except that she's a
girl; and girls,--I thought they were all under the ban. You'll have to
take your hat off, you know."

"H'm," grunted the judge again.

"I'll tell you what," suggested John, "send me there. I'll go."

"Do you know her?"

"Used to--well. I haven't seen her for years. It's her family I
referred to when I spoke of friends of mine going up into Casco Bay."

"Yes. Hawk Island."

"That's the place. I was invited there once, but couldn't accept."

"Very nice girl, Edna," remarked the judge.

Dunham emitted a noiseless whistle. "She must be a wonder," he replied.
"I didn't know there were any nice girls."

"You think you're smart, don't you?" said the judge.

"I shall if I get an errand to Miss Derwent to-morrow."

"Then who's to go to the Tide Mill?" demanded the lawyer.

"You and Miss Lacey, hand in hand. It's fitting that you should protect
one another."

"Miss Lacey lives with Edna Derwent at the island in the summer,--keeps
house for her, plays watch-dog, and all that sort of thing."

"Indeed? How small the world is! I knew I felt drawn to Miss Lacey. I'd
forgotten until you mentioned it how I adore Miss Derwent. Do give me
the detail, Judge."

"Get out. You can't do that Boston business. I suppose you'd better
mail this letter to Miss Lacey," tossing the missive over to the young
man's desk.

"I can take it to her house this evening. I have to go to thank her for
my handkerchief that she sent back. Do you want me to--no!" with a
sudden turn back to his desk.

"Do I want you to what?"

"Nothing."

"Don't be an idiot!" exclaimed the lawyer, exasperated by his own
indecision concerning this affair so foreign to his experience.

"No, it's none of my business," said Dunham.

"Do I want you to ask Miss Lacey if she'll go up to the farm? Yes, I
do. Tell her all expenses paid."

After supper that night, for they had supper at six in this rural city
of Seaton, John Dunham took a trolley car for the tree-lined street
where Miss Lacey's cottage stood behind its row of poplars.

"Utterly inappropriate," mused Dunham, smiling to himself as he glanced
up at these "old maids of the forest." "They would be far better placed
in front of Judge Trent's.