themselves."

"H'm. That might be. Are they the sort that could be of any use to
you?"

"Why, yes. The most cocksure of them all can do a lot for me if he
likes."

Judge Trent shook his head. "Go slow, Boy. It's easier to get into that
noose than out of it."

"Why, you complained that I went too slow in the case of Edna."

"Yes, yes, indeed. There you would have had the best possible chances."
The judge sighed. "You've missed your life-opportunity; now be
cautious."

"You haven't seen Sylvia since she did up her hair, have you?"

The digression was so sharp and unexpected, Judge Trent winked, and
came slowly back from his dejection.

"Hair?" he repeated, vaguely. "I shouldn't know whether she did up her
hair or not. It's short, still, isn't it? How could she?"

"She puts a tight elastic, or ribbon, or something, around it, right at
the crown. It makes a lot of little waves and curls that tumble
around--well, just right."

Judge Trent blinked slowly toward the rather tense face.

"She's going up to the farm next week," he said.

"I know she is," replied Dunham. "So am I. She doesn't know it. I'm
going to surprise her. I haven't asked if you could spare me. You'll
have to."

Judge Trent's mouth fell slightly open. Presently he swung his chair
around to his desk and began mechanically to examine and separate some
papers which he took from a rubber band. Certain ones he tore and threw
them into the wastebasket, returned others to a pigeonhole, and all in
a businesslike rush, as if to make up for the time he had been wasting.

At last a strange look overspread his face. The blood rushed to it.
Again he took off a rubber band and ran his eyes over the various
papers. Then he scowled, and, snatching up the wastebasket, fished out
the top scraps. He regarded them aghast. Presently a sound rang through
that office which had never resounded in Dunham's time. Judge Trent
laughed loud and long.

"Boy, I'll have to confess it," he said, as John looked up in
questioning amazement. "I've torn up that new deed we made out." He
laughed again, and Dunham joined him in a spontaneous burst.

"Who are _you_ in love with, Judge Trent?" he asked.

"You, I guess," returned the lawyer, bluntly. He rose and came again to
the younger man's side, and the excitement in his face showed now as
gravity.

"John," he said, "is it Sylvia?"

Dunham rose. "Yes, it's Sylvia," he answered.

Their hands met in a strenuous clasp.