"But of course the first thing, you want to try Olympia oysters. Hop Sing manages a good pan roast." He rang and gave the order to the Chinese cook, and Lem proceeded to adapt himself to the elegant appointments of the table. The teacher had taken the opposite chair. "Oh," she said presently, "I know I have missed things; torchlight processions and rallies, and orations,—I shall read that last speech directly,—and I’m sure you have been serenaded by all the bands. I do love a band, Uncle Silas." "They will play again," said the Judge, laughing, "and I hope one at a time, and tonight you can enjoy the ball. But no doubt that is what brought you all the way from Nisqually. You expect to lead that ball." She shook her head. "Your first dance belongs to Mrs. Governor, Uncle Si; we can’t choose. That’s the penalty of greatness." The Judge laughed again, a soft rumble. "My dear," he said, after a moment, "isn’t it about time you left off calling me Uncle?" She looked at him, flushing, with quick surprise. "I understand," she said softly, "I understand. I should have thought of it long ago. Of course I always speak of you differently to strangers, but among ourselves—why— It was you who taught me, at the first, when I was a little girl." "Oh, but you don’t understand," he replied hurriedly. "I mean—you see, my dear, when you were a child a young man seemed so much your senior; the years between us do not count so much since you are a woman. In short, it should be more natural to call me just Silas—or even Si." "Call you—Si? Oh, how could I?" and she threw her head back and laughed and laughed. "Good morning—Si. I congratulate you on the election—Si—" the words came with difficulty, between trills of merriment. "I am very proud of you—Si. But it was what we expected; you are the one man big enough for the place—Si—and all the territory knew it. Oh, indeed, indeed, I cannot. It’s so ridiculously familiar. But, yes, I will do it, I’ll try if you—" she paused and looked away through the open window. "The truth is—of course I want to go to the ball, immensely, but I came from Nisqually really—because—to ask—" The Judge laughed, his pleasant undernote. "I see," he said, "I see, you are ready to come home. I’ve expected it; I’ve waited for it, and I’ve missed you more than you can ever know. But things are changed. I am going East in a few months and the house here will be closed. You do not want to make your home with Louise at Freeport." He broke off and walked over to the window. Directly he turned, and, with his back to the light, his hands clasped loosely behind him, stood regarding her. "The home here was broken up when you went away," he added, "and I shall find it lonelier still at Washington—unless—"