The judge felt the embarrassment of guilt. This was the result of his leaving Martha to bear the heat and burden of Hotel Frisbie alone. Hers had been the hours of tears and anxiety. He had kept on the even tenor of his legal way, troubling himself about nothing, and his negative misdemeanors were less heavily visited upon him. Compared to himself Martha was innocent; and it was the way of the world that such should suffer always with the guilty, and sometimes even in their place. He told himself, however, that his tenure on the situation was too light to be risked. He took ignoble refuge in generalities. "Don't rely too much on first impressions, Sylvia. Your Aunt Martha has grieved about you. Remember, 'to err is human, to forgive divine.' Moreover,"--the speaker's lips twitched again,--"what will Thinkright say if you refuse her standing-room on our cloud? Consider well!" Sylvia smiled through bright drops. "Now, then, change seats with me," continued the judge, "and I'll row you in." At the same moment Thinkright, having been absent for hours on some errand, was being greeted on his return by Mrs. Lem, who came out to the doorstep to meet him. "Guess who's come," she said. He looked up inquiringly. "Is Miss Derwent back again?" "No. You'd never guess who it is this season o' the year. It's Judge Trent." "Where is he?" "Went down to the basin to find Miss Sylvy." "Oh, did he?" Thinkright smiled in his interest. "Yes. Kind of a touchin' meetin', I expect," remarked Mrs. Lem, lifting her pompadour and sighing sentimentally. Judge Trent had surprised her in a state of sleek and simple coiffure; but no sooner had his high hat disappeared down the hill than she flew into the bedroom and remedied the modest workaday appearance of her head; nor would the pompadour abate one half inch of its majestic proportions until he took his train back to Boston. She hoped she knew what was due to the lord of all he surveyed. "How long has he been gone?" asked Thinkright. "Oh, the best part of an hour, I should say." "Then he must have found her," remarked the other, still with his speculative smile. "Yes, indeed, and I hope she'll bring him home soon. It's real raw on the water to-day in spite of the sun, and the judge's bronicals ain't jest as strong as they might be." "Oh, Mrs. Lem, Mrs. Lem," laughed Thinkright quietly, entering the house and hanging up his hat. "There they come now!" she exclaimed, herself hastily retreating into the kitchen. Thinkright looked out to see Sylvia's uncovered bright head level with the judge's high hat as they strolled up the hill. The lawyer's hands were clasped behind his back, and Thinkright augured peace from the deliberation of the strollers. He met them at the door. Sylvia's grave face changed to a pensive smile at sight of him, and Judge Trent gave his cousin's hand a dry, short shake.