In front of Sim Harrison's house there was a little porch, not much bigger than a hand held slantingly against its weathered side, and in the shadow of it one who had approached unheard by the anxious watchers through the blustering night, stood fumbling for the handle of a bell. But Sim Harrison's door was bald of a bell handle, as it was bare of paint, and now a summons sounded on its thin panel, and went roaring through the house like a blow on a drum. Mrs. Harrison looked meaningly at Ollie; Ollie nodded, understandingly. The summons for which they had waited had come. The older woman rose in resigned determination, went below and opened the door. "It is Judge Maxwell," said the dark figure which stood large and fearful in Mrs. Harrison's sight. "I have come to see Mrs. Chase." "Yes, sir; I'll call her," said the trembling woman. Ollie had heard from the top of the stairs. She was descending in the darkness, softly. She spoke as her mother turned from the door. "I was expecting you--some of you," said she. "Very well, then," said Judge Maxwell, wondering if that mysterious voice had worked another miracle. "Get your wraps and come with me." Mrs. Harrison began to groan and wail. Couldn't they let the poor child stay there till morning, under her own mother's roof? It was a wild and terrible night, and Lord knew the poor, beaten, bruised, and weary bird would not fly away! "Save your tears, madam, until they are needed," said the judge, not feeling that he was called upon to explain the purpose of his visit to her. "I'm ready to go," announced Ollie, hooded and cloaked in the door. Sim Harrison was stirring about overhead. He came to the top of the stairs with a lamp in his hand, and wanted to know what the rumpus was about. "It's Judge Maxwell--he's come for Ollie!" said his wife, in a despairing wail. "I knowed it, I knowed it!" declared Sim, with fatalistic resignation, above which there was perhaps a slight note of triumph in seeing his own prediction so speedily fulfilled. To Harrison and his wife there was no distinction between the executive and judicial branches of the law. Judge or sheriff, it was all one to them, each being equally terrible in their eyes. "When can she come home, Judge, when can she come back?" appealed Mrs. Harrison, in anguished pleading. "It rests with her," returned the judge. He gave Ollie his arm, and they passed together in silence up the street. They had proceeded a square before the judge spoke. "I am calling you on an unusual mission, Mrs. Chase," he said, "but I did not know a better way than this to go about what I felt it my duty to do." "Yes, sir," said she. He could feel her tremble as she lightly touched his arm. They passed the court-house. There was a light in the sheriff's office, but they did not turn in there, and a sigh for that temporary respite, at least, escaped her. The judge spoke again.