"Well," responded Miss Lacey, "I don't see how anybody could be _more_ free. I should feel that I was tempting Providence to expect everything was coming my way, the way he does. I should expect a thunderbolt instead of prosperity. I told him so once, and he smiled and said then I'd probably get the thunderbolt. He says it's all a matter of what you expect and why you expect it. He asked me if the reason I expected the thunderbolt was because I believed that God was Love. He hasn't got a spark of the humility that most good folks know they must have. Why, if every Christian was like him there wouldn't be a professor left who'd call himself a poor worm or a sinner. I don't agree with Thinkright, because I'd never be so presuming with my Creator as he is, nor be certain that my Father wouldn't see fit to send me any afflictions; but I must say he has as lively a dread of sin as anybody I ever knew. There's no mistake about his being a good soul, and that's why I don't mind his notions; and, oh, I'm so glad he's got that flighty child under his wing. She'll never get any harm from his example, however queer his talk is. Edna Derwent, now, she sympathizes with him, and thinks she gets along a lot better since she's had his ideas to work on. So," Miss Lacey looked at her caller with a sudden speculative curiosity, "so you're one of Miss Derwent's satellites, are you?" Dunham shrugged his shoulders. "I used to be, but I've been so frozen by years of her silence that now I might better be classed among her stalactites. She has a number. I've been trying to get Judge Trent to send me to Boston on business to-morrow and to call on her. He wishes to ask some questions about his niece." "Does he, indeed?" Miss Martha sat up very straight and her eyes snapped. "Well, it's about time. I guess Thinkright's letter hurt _his_ pride a little, too." "It did seem to stir him. Of course you are both pleased that this friend--this relative of yours has decided to adopt your niece." "It sounds awfully,--just awfully, doesn't it, Mr. Dunham?" returned Miss Lacey, a nervous color mounting in her face. "_Our_ niece, and Thinkright adopting her; partly from a romantic feeling which does him the highest credit,--he adored poor Laura,--and partly from duty which I should think would be a sermon to Cal--to Judge Trent." Sudden tears sprang to the speaker's eyes, and she touched them with her handkerchief. "I've condemned myself, for, after all, while I thought I was justified, I certainly didn't stop to think enough from Sylvia's standpoint, I was so afraid I was going to be imposed upon. I'm so grateful to Thinkright, and so grateful to you, Mr. Dunham. What should we have done without you!" "Oh, don't--don't mention it." "But I must, I'm so grateful. I wish Judge Trent would send you on some business errand to the farm so that"--