The judge did not smile. He suddenly relaxed throughout his slight frame. "That's Martha," he replied, "you haven't made any mistake. And she'd do it. Very capable woman. Very capable woman. Dunham, I want you to understand," he continued, as he rose and straightened himself, "that I respect that lady very highly." "Oh, I do understand," responded Dunham. "She's a bright, observant woman. She found the chairs dusty." He drew in his breath in a noiseless whistle. The little man looked up alertly under his shaggy brows. "They _were_ dusty, I dare say. You cleaned one for her, eh?" "Yes, with my handkerchief. She didn't like it." "Oh, no, she wouldn't like that. You are quite sure there'd be no use in your going back again and trying to find out what she--a--eh?" "Aren't _you_ quite sure?" Dunham stood with his feet apart and a broad grin on his countenance. The judge rose and shook himself. "I've got those papers ready, Dunham. It might be well for you to take them over to the office and register them; and as you pass through you may ask Miss Lacey to step in here." John Dunham composed his countenance, took his hat and the papers, and started on his errand. Entering the outer room, he paused before Miss Lacey to give his message, and she lifted a small paper parcel that lay in her lap. "Don't be worried about your handkerchief," she said. "I'm going to take it home and wash it." "Oh, I beg you won't trouble yourself," exclaimed the young man. "I shall. You soiled it for me." Dunham bit his lip. The query flitted through his mind as to whether Miss Lacey had ever been successfully contradicted. "When Sir Walter Raleigh flung down his coat for a queen to walk upon, history doesn't say that Elizabeth sent it to the dry-cleaners," he remarked. "That just shows how different two old maids can act," returned Miss Lacey. Dunham laughed and bowed. "I don't believe the difference would continue throughout," he said. "I fancy you and Queen Bess have lots of points in common." With this he took his departure, and Martha Lacey rose and passed into the inner room where Judge Trent waited, grimly wondering at that burst of laughter which he saw reflected on his visitor's lips as she entered. She advanced and shook hands with him. "How do you do, Calvin? That isn't any fool you've taken into your office." "Won't you have a chair?" offering Dunham's. "I wasn't looking for a fool when I engaged him. Perhaps that explains it." "You have your hat on, Calvin," remarked Miss Lacey, as she accepted the seat after an investigating sweep of her gloved finger. "I beg your pardon," returned the disconcerted lawyer, removing his hat and setting it reluctantly on his desk. Then he, too, sat down, passing his hand over his scanty locks. "Your furniture in the next room is shockingly soiled," she went on. "Why don't you have Hannah come with some good flannel rags and tepid water and ivory soap and furniture polish?"