He is a bachelor by conviction."

Miss Lacey saw the young man coming up the walk, and herself opened the
door, although she kept a little maid of fourteen, who attended school
by day and assisted Miss Martha in her free hours for her board and
lodging.

"How do you do, Mr. Dunham?" she said, brow and voice anxious. "I hope
nothing bad has brought you."

"Do you call gratitude and admiration bad?" asked John, as she hastily
shook hands with him.

"There's very little of either ever walks in this door," returned Miss
Martha dejectedly. "Step into the parlor, please. I'll pull up the
shades in one minute."

She suited the action to the word, and as she threw open a window the
scent of lilacs floated into the room. "These are nice long evenings,
aren't they?" she pursued lugubriously. "What are you grateful for, Mr.
Dunham?"

"My handkerchief, of course."

"Law! Your handkerchief!" repeated Miss Lacey. "Do sit down."

A swift glance at the spider-legged furniture caused John to choose the
haircloth sofa, whose shining surface bulged substantially. He wondered
where the judge used to sit. Any of the chairs would have held him, but
perhaps they both used this sofa. If so, they must have led a migratory
existence; and perhaps its slipperiness had infected and undermined the
stability of the judge's affections.

"You didn't need to make any fuss about the handkerchief," added Miss
Martha.

"Indeed I should," replied Dunham, immediately conscious of beginning
to glide, and anchoring himself with an arm across the mahogany back.
"It would be sacrilege ever to use such a miracle of whiteness and
shine, with a cameo monogram."

"How foolish," returned Miss Martha, visibly cheered.

"No, indeed," continued John; "I'm going to have it framed and hung
where my laundress can use it for a model."

His companion emitted a faint laugh. "I'm glad you can joke," she said,
"and it's real kind of you to come and thank me for such a trifle. Oh,
Mr. Dunham, I haven't had a happy minute since that day we were in
Boston. I was just now sitting down to write a letter to Thinkright. He
doesn't know the suspense I'm in. I suppose she's told him how hateful
I was, and he thinks I don't care."

"Yes, a letter came only to-day. Here it is. It was one of my errands
to bring it."

"Good news? Oh, is it good news?" Miss Lacey's attitude changed
alertly, and she seized the offered envelope.

"I don't know," replied John. "She's ther