Miss Martha marveled at the ease with which her niece took possession
of the lonely man who courted loneliness; and she could see by the way
the judge turned toward the young girl, as she took his arm, that he
was not an unwilling captive. "I shouldn't wonder if the child made
Calvin real human," she thought, with a contented sigh. Sylvia was a
possession which they held in common. Miss Martha seemed to see a
future in which her relation with her ex-lover ceased to be one of
armed neutrality.

Dunham, who had gone into the house to thank his entertainer, soon
reappeared, with Edna beside him. They strolled off the piazza and down
the rock path toward the golden street which joined the short avenue of
firs, and Sylvia saw them no more that night.

She took care to be in bed, with her light out, before Edna came
upstairs, only calling to her a cheery good-night as she passed her
door. She hoped her friend would come in and stay for a little talk,
but Edna paused only for a moment to exclaim upon the beauty of the
evening and the pity of the fact that sleep was a necessity. Then she
too said good-night, and passed on.

Affairs the next morning turned out quite as Sylvia would have had
them. At breakfast she discovered that Judge Trent and Dunham had
departed early on a fishing expedition. Edna was absorbed with her
carpenters and their alterations, and Sylvia found no difficulty in
escaping unquestioned to the woods, the pillow slip hanging over her
arm.

This time when she returned at noon there was no one in sight, and she
laid down bottle and bag in a corner of the piazza while she went to
the well for a drink. Returning, she again took the flat, stiff pillow
slip and went upstairs with it.

The men came home to dinner a little late. They brought no treasures
back save those of John's imagination; and he regaled the company
during the meal with such accounts of the morning's experiences as
caused Miss Martha to entertain fears concerning his ultimate
destination.

They all left the table at last in a gale of merriment, and went out on
the piazza to drink their coffee. When they had finished Edna offered
to show Judge Trent a shady hammock where breezes were warranted to
lull all but the uneasiest conscience to rest. It was swung between two
balsam firs, and the young people, leaving the judge therein, his cap
pulled down over his eyes, went back to the piazza.

As soon as Dunham went up the steps his eye fell