"Nothing, I guess, except dust the chair. I'm sure I'm much obliged to you for that and I'm sorry that you took your nice handkerchief. You ought to have some soft cheesecloth here." "I'll--mention it," said Dunham. "May I ask your business?" "No, you may not," returned Miss Martha equably. "Is Judge Trent in?" The young lawyer collected himself. "I represent Judge Trent," he said briefly. "Not to me you don't, young man," rejoined the visitor coolly. They regarded each other for a moment. "I wish to see Judge Trent," said Martha at last. "He is very busy; but if you will tell me the nature of"-- "Busy? So am I," returned Miss Lacey brusquely, "and if you imagine that I am going to climb up to this office and then leave it without seeing the judge you're mistaken. You might give me something to read if he'll be long." "Do you think you would care for Blackstone?" asked the young lawyer. "There isn't much choice here." "I shouldn't mind looking at it. I've always known that a little common sense would revise the law so that a lot of this absurd red tape could be cut out." "Then the world has been waiting for you many years; Mrs.--Mrs."-- "Not at all," returned the visitor; "I'm not Mrs. You go into the office, please, and tell Judge Trent that Miss Martha Lacey would like to see him on important business." Dunham nodded; but his head had scarcely regained the perpendicular when the name began to impress him. "Martha." "Pizen-neat." He bit his lip, and without venturing again to meet Miss Lacey's cool, incisive gaze he turned and vanished into the inner office. CHAPTER II MARTHA LACEY Judge Trent was sitting at his desk scowling at his work with concentration when his assistant tiptoed to his side, his face sternly repressed and his eyes dancing. "Miss Martha Lacey wishes to see you, Judge." The latter looked up with such suddenness as to endanger the situation of the high hat. "Who?" he demanded. "Sh!" advised Dunham. "Miss Martha Lacey." Judge Trent placed his hand on his assistant's arm as he stared up at him. "I guess you got the name wrong, Boy," he returned, in a hushed tone. The young lawyer shook his head solemnly, but his lips refused solemnity. "Miss Martha Lacey," he repeated slowly. His senior frowned. "These offices are badly planned, Dunham, badly planned. There is no back entrance." "Exit, do you mean?" asked the other. "What are you doing in here?" demanded the judge sternly, but careful not to raise his voice. "It was your place to find out her business." "That's what I thought. In fact, I told her so." "Well, what is it, then? You go back. I empower you to act." As Judge Trent spoke he pushed his young colleague with one bony hand. "She won't have me," gurgled Dunham in a whisper. "She's going to wait for you till the last trump, and while she's waiting she says she'll revise Blackstone."