er get any harm from his example, however
queer his talk is. Edna Derwent, now, she sympathizes with him, and
thinks she gets along a lot better since she's had his ideas to work
on. So," Miss Lacey looked at her caller with a sudden speculative
curiosity, "so you're one of Miss Derwent's satellites, are you?"

Dunham shrugged his shoulders. "I used to be, but I've been so frozen
by years of her silence that now I might better be classed among her
stalactites. She has a number. I've been trying to get Judge Trent to
send me to Boston on business to-morrow and to call on her. He wishes
to ask some questions about his niece."

"Does he, indeed?" Miss Martha sat up very straight and her eyes
snapped. "Well, it's about time. I guess Thinkright's letter hurt _his_
pride a little, too."

"It did seem to stir him. Of course you are both pleased that this
friend--this relative of yours has decided to adopt your niece."

"It sounds awfully,--just awfully, doesn't it, Mr. Dunham?" returned
Miss Lacey, a nervous color mounting in her face. "_Our_ niece, and
Thinkright adopting her; partly from a romantic feeling which does him
the highest credit,--he adored poor Laura,--and partly from duty which
I should think would be a sermon to Cal--to Judge Trent." Sudden tears
sprang to the speaker's eyes, and she touched them with her
handkerchief. "I've condemned myself, for, after all, while I thought I
was justified, I certainly didn't stop to think enough from Sylvia's
standpoint, I was so afraid I was going to be imposed upon. I'm so
grateful to Thinkright, and so grateful to you, Mr. Dunham. What should
we have done without you!"

"Oh, don't--don't mention it."

"But I must, I'm so grateful. I wish Judge Trent would send you on some
business errand to the farm so that"--

"No, indeed," interrupted John hastily; "but he does want to send you,
Miss Martha. He empowered me to request that you take the trip,
permitting him to be at all expense."

"He did, did he?" retorted Miss Lacey, her eyes drying and snapping
again. "Well, I should think it was about time he stopped sending folks
on that errand," she continued, with a superior contempt for
consistency. "It's about time he went himself. I guess he feels pretty
small about the whole thing if the truth were known. Isn't that
touching about Sylvia's kissing his picture? How did he feel when he
read that, Mr. Dunham?"

"Impossible to tell. All he said was 'get out.'"

Miss Lac