der the lens of the society man. I've only to scratch your
legal skin, John, to find a society man. I've always known that."

"Why, I should call her manners mighty comfortable ones," returned the
young man. "She's a practical homemaker, that's what she is; and you're
a--well, it's unintelligent of you to go on living alone, that's all,
with that wrinkled map of Ireland for your only appetizer."

The judge looked thoughtful. "I hadn't got as far as that," he said.
"My habits are pretty hopelessly settled, I'm afraid. I don't think I
ought to inflict myself on anybody at this late day."

"Nonsense. I know she wouldn't look at it that way, and perhaps this
summer'll do the business. When you get over to Hawk Island and see
her"--

"See who!" Judge Trent faced his companion, and his shaggy brows moved
up and down portentously beneath the overhanging eaves of his brown
cap. "You mortal idiot," he thundered, "who are you talking about?"

Dunham's mouth fell open. "Miss Lacey. You said--Miss Lacey! Did
you--were you asking about Sylvia?"

"_No!_" roared Judge Trent wrathfully. "I asked about Miss Lacey. What
are you doing with Sylvia's name? Miss Lacey I say, and you'd better
say so, too!"

John mechanically drew his cap from his pocket, and fanned his heated
countenance. Little did Judge Trent suspect how far this young man had
rambled and swam and floated and sailed from that port where Sylvia
might have been Miss Lacey to him. So it was _her_ manners and breeding
upon which her uncle desired a society man's verdict. What if he should
describe to the judge the Look, the Idea, and the Potion that awaited
his home-coming?

Then there rushed over him the matrimonial bureau zeal with which he
had done his best for Miss Martha. The combination reminiscence was too
much. If it severed his connection with the law offices at Seaton
forever, his self-control must snap, and all at once he threw back his
head with a laugh which woke every echo that side the Tide Mill.

A black and towering shadow suddenly appeared at one of the farmhouse
windows. Mrs. Lem, with Judge Trent an actuality and the splendid Mr.
Dunham a constantly impending possibility, had been helmeted daily from
early morn till set of sun. It was her imposing crest that John's storm
of hilarity had brought into view.

The judge's fearful scowl relaxed, and he seized his companion's arm.

"I called you some names, didn't I, Boy," he said, when he could make