"H'm. Trust you among those lobster traps?" returned the judge irascibly. "Never. I feel some responsibility to your family." As Miss Lacey said afterward, it was the greatest mercy that she wasn't out that evening. She had been inclined to go over to Selina Lane's to get a skirt pattern, but some trifle had prevented her setting forth, so that she sat rocking gently in her sitting-room, enjoying blind man's holiday at about eight o'clock, and reflecting on the contents of a letter from Miss Derwent which she held in her lap, when she saw in the dusk an unmistakable figure turn in at her gate. "Calvin!" she exclaimed, and surprised color mounted to her forehead as she rose to open the door. "No lights. I thought you were out," was Judge Trent's greeting. Now Miss Lacey knew from the etiquette column in "The Ladies' Friend" that it was _de rigueur_ to allow a gentleman caller to take care of his own hat, but, as she reflected in a lightning flash, that authority on manners and morals in "The Ladies' Friend" had never met Judge Trent. The reluctance with which he now yielded up his boon companion vindicated her lack of confidence. She deposited it on the hall table. "Step right in, Calvin," she went on. "I hardly know how to wait for your news. I'll light the lamp in an instant." She proceeded to do so, conscious of a fleeting wish that the visitor would note the brightness of the chimney and clearness of the flame, and read a lesson to Hannah. She breathed a sigh as she realized the hopelessness of the aspiration. The judge was standing, waiting in silence for her to be seated. No movement or expression showed that the objects about him bore different associations from those connected with his office furniture, and if she took her seat on the haircloth sofa with an idea that he would join her she was disappointed. He parted his coat-tails and perched upon a straight-backed structure of mahogany, usually avoided by every caller. "Well, Martha, I haven't much to tell. She's very pretty." "I told you so, Calvin. I told you that was the trouble." "Precisely. In addition I must say she has very little use for us,--for you and me." Miss Lacey shook her head mournfully. "How did she treat you? Did she flash up and snap her eyes?" "No, she shut them with a sort of a take-it-away expression." "But she is safe now, isn't she? You will let her stay at the farm, won't you?" "Yes, of course," returned the judge. "Does she look so ill and pitiful?" "No, she's picking up. She seems perfectly contented under Thinkright's wing." "You don't know what that means," returned Miss Martha fervently. "After that dreadful talk about the stage, and marrying actors, I didn't know as she'd be willing to stay in the country with a plain man like Thinkright." "She doesn't think he's plain. She considers him a mixture of Adonis and Solomon."