d ox team into the huckleberry bushes and
waited for them to pass, waving a whip-handle greeting from his perch on
top of his load of fragrant pitch pine. The little ponds and lakes shone
deeply blue as they glimpsed them in the hollows or over the tree tops
and, occasionally, a startled partridge boomed from the thicket, or a
flock of quail scurried along the roadside.

They talked of all sorts of things, mostly of ships and seas and
countries far away, subjects to which Elizabeth led the conversation and
then abandoned it to her companion. They spoke little of the Fair Harbor
or its picayune problems, and of the errand upon which they were
going--the judge's will, its reading and its possible surprises--none at
all.

"Don't," pleaded Elizabeth, when Sears once mentioned the will; "don't,
please. Judge Knowles was such a good friend of mine that I can't bear
to think he has gone and that some one else is to speak his thoughts and
carry out his plans. Tell me another sea story, Cap'n Kendrick. There
aren't any Elvira Snowdens off Cape Horn, I'm sure."

So Sears spun his yarns and enjoyed the spinning because she seemed to
so enjoy listening to them. And he did not once mention his crippled
limbs, or his despondency concerning the future; in fact, he pretty well
forgot them for the time. And he did not mention George Kent, a person
whom he had meant to mention and praise highly, for his unreasonable
conscience had pestered him since the talk in the summer-house and, as
usual, he had determined to do penance. But he forgot Kent for the time,
forgot him altogether.

Bradley's law offices occupied a one-story building on Orham's main road
near the center of the village. There were several rigs standing at the
row of hitching posts by the steps as they drove up. Sears climbed from
the buggy--he did it much easier than had been possible a month
before--and moored the Foam Flake beside them. Then they entered the
building.

Bradley's office boy told them that his employer and the others were in
the private room beyond. The captain inquired who the others were.

"Well" said the boy, "there's that Mr. Barnes--he's the one from
California, you know, Judge Knowles' nephew. And Mike--Mr. Callahan, I
mean--him that took care of the judge's horse and team and things; and
that Tidditt woman that kept his house. And there's Mr. Dishup, the
Orthodox minister from over to Bayport, and another man, I don't know
his name. Walk right