houlders. "Oh, well, I suppose you can
telegraph for us, then."

John swallowed, and meeting the lawyer's eyes, realized that he might
as well save circumlocution.

"Well--yes."

"Of all things!" exclaimed Martha, with a start. "What do you mean?"

The judge hooked his thumbs in his armholes, regarding Dunham
quizzically. "How about Jacob Johnson, Esquire, alias Thinkright. Do
you suppose if I sent to him to shake the hayseed out of his hair and
come on here you might unburden yourself to him somewhat?"

"Look here, Judge Trent," said Dunham, with exasperation, "perhaps you
think I've had a pleasant day."

The lawyer approached the speaker and patted his big arm. "Could you,
John, could you, do you think?"

"Yes, confound you!"

"Then we're fixed, Martha," said Judge Trent calmly. "You're all right,
Dunham. You didn't overrate yourself at all."

"But I don't understand," exclaimed Martha tremulously, looking from
one to the other.

Judge Trent opened the door for her ceremoniously.

"The intricate workings of the law, Martha, are difficult of
explanation; but, after all, what do you care if the net result proves
to be the arrival of your niece at the Mill Farm in a few days."

"Of your niece, Calvin," returned Miss Lacey, moving to the door,
followed by Dunham, whose brow was lowering. "Don't think of coming
with me, Mr. Dunham," she added, turning to him. "It is still fully
light--and," ingratiatingly, "did you say you were going to telegraph
Sylvia?"

"Yes."

"What shall he say, Calvin?"

"I should trust his judgment before my own," returned the lawyer.
"Here's your eight dollars, Boy, and you're a trump."

John took the money without smiling; but he was glad to know about the
farm.

Miss Martha boarded her car with a heart that was questioning but
beginning to hope, and her mind was busy piecing together the evidence.

Mr. Dunham had left her for hours. He had been unable to return Judge
Trent's money. He knew where Sylvia was.

Her misery gradually abated, and before she reached her gate she began
to wonder if her bonnet had been on straight during the recent
interview.

CHAPTER VI

SYLVIA'S CALLER

When Dunham's telegram reached Sylvia Lacey she was for the time being
powerless to disobey it. The excitement and disappointment of the
interview with her aunt had resulted in a feverish attack which, though
slight, destroyed her ambition to do more than lie on her narrow bed
and