t Polly was at the
disposal of her neighbours. They could make appointments for private
interviews or air their grievances before others, as the spirit urged
them. Awful verdicts, clean-cut and simple, were arrived at; advice,
grim and far-reaching, was generously given, but woe to the liar or
sniveller.

A curious sort of understanding grew up between Northrup and the
little woman concerning these conclaves. Polly sensed his interest in
all that went on and partly comprehended the real reason for it. She
had been strangely impressed by the knowledge that her guest was a
writer-man and therefore conscientious about the mental food she set
before him. She did not share Peter's doubts. Some things she felt
were not for Northrup and that fast-flying pen of his! But there were
other glimpses behind the shields of King's Forest that did not
matter. To these Northrup was welcome.

When the hour came for _court_ to sit, it became Northrup's habit to
seek the front porch for exercise and fresh air. Sometimes the window
nearest to Aunt Polly's sofa would be left open! Sometimes it was
closed.

In the latter emergency Northrup sought his exercise and fresh air at
a distance.

One day Maclin called. Northrup had not seen him before and was
interested. Indirectly he was concerned with the story in hand for he
was the mysterious friend of Larry Rivers and the puller of many
strings in King's Forest; strings that were manipulated in ways that
aroused suspicion and would be great stuff in a book.

Northrup had seen Maclin from his room window and, when all was safe,
quietly took to the back stairs and silently reached the piazza.

The window by Aunt Polly's couch was open a little higher than usual
and the words that greeted Northrup were:

"_I_ call it muggy, Mr. Maclin. That's what _I_ call it, and if the
draught hits the nape of your neck, set the other side of the hearth
where there ain't no draught."

This, apparently, the caller proceeded to do. Outside Northrup took a
chair and refrained from smoking. He wanted his presence to be
unsuspected by the caller. He was confident that Aunt Polly knew of
his proximity, and he felt sure that Maclin had come to find out more
about him.

From the first Northrup was aware of a subtle meaning for the call and
he wondered if the woman, clicking her needles, fully comprehended it!
The man, Maclin, he soon gathered, was no ordinary personage. He had a
kind of superficial polish an