"How are you, Thinkright? See if you can't find a light boat and manageable oars for Sylvia in this vicinity. I found her catching crabs and losing oars at a great rate down there, and splashing herself till she resembled a mermaid. Hello, Minty," for here the child drew her doubtful and reluctant feet into the room, her wide eyes always a little shy at first of the brusque and powerful man in the high hat. "I have something for you." The judge began feeling in his coat pocket. "I bought you a bag of gumdrops, and regret that I forgot and have been sitting on them all the afternoon." He produced the paper bag. "Fortunately, they are the durable brand for sale at the village and warranted to withstand any pressure. At worst they will be lozenges now." "Why did you surprise us?" asked Thinkright, as Minty beamingly accepted the striped bag. "Why didn't you let me send the team over?" "Oh, you know I'm a creature of impulse," returned the lawyer, with his dry smile; "I acted with my usual lack of calculation. Made up my mind to come one minute, and took the train the next." Thinkright did not reply, but glanced toward Sylvia, who was pulling the blue sweater off over her head. CHAPTER XIV BLIND MAN'S HOLIDAY Upon Judge Trent's return to town John Dunham did not disappear in a cloud of dust to make his call on Miss Derwent. He took the precaution to telephone, and discovered that she was out of the city. He felt considerable curiosity regarding his employer's experiences at the farm, but true to his new and safe policy he asked not a single question. Business required the judge's immediate attention upon his arrival, but as soon as affairs in the office quieted he remembered the promise he had made Dunham. "Now then, boy," he said one morning, "there isn't any reason why you can't run along to-day and call on Miss Derwent." "The bird has flown. I 'phoned to the house. She has gone to New York to be a bridesmaid. Isn't coming back till time to leave for Maine." "H'm. Too bad," returned the judge absent-mindedly. "Thank you. Don't let it depress you." "Eh?" looking up; Dunham was bending over the morning mail. "Ever been in that Casco Bay region?" went on the judge. "Yes, I yachted along the coast from Bar Harbor to Portland one summer." "It's a fine, unspoiled part of the world," remarked the lawyer with unusual pensiveness, setting his hat farther back from his forehead and looking into space. "When I get a glimpse of it as I did this week, I'm tempted to hasten my retirement, to bid farewell to the squabbling world, and turn fisherman,--begin to spread nets for mackerel instead of my fellow men, and trap only such lobsters as will blush in a pot instead of in court." "Hear, hear," said Dunham. "You must have had good weather up there,--or else," he added, "fallen in love with your niece."