Nevertheless, he could not help saying to Parson Marks, just before the party came to an end: "Mrs. Sherrod is having the time of her young life, ain't she? She's a mighty pretty thing. Jud ought to be mighty proud of her. Every man here's half or dead in love with her." "We all admire her very much," said Mr. Marks, with great dignity. He did not like the free and easy speech of the editor. "I noticed a curious thing in a Chicago paper not long ago," said Boswell, whose eyes were following the girl. "Fellow with the same name as Jud's was married up there. Funny, wasn't it?" "Not at all, Mr. Boswell," said Mr. Marks, stiffly. "There are hundreds of Sherrods in Chicago; the name is a common one. I saw the same article, I presume. It so impressed me, I confess, that I took the liberty of writing to Jud Sherrod to inquire if he knew anything about it." "You did?" cried the editor, his eyes snapping eagerly. "And did he answer?" "He did, most assuredly." "Well?" asked Boswell, as the pastor paused. "What did he say?" "He said that he knew nothing about it except what he had seen in the papers, that's all." "That's just what I thought," said the editor, emphatically. "I knew it wasn't our Jud." "How could it be our Jud? He has a wife," said the minister, severely. "Well, such things do happen, parson," said Boswell, somewhat defiantly. "You hear of them every day; papers are full of them." "You may rest assured that Jud Sherrod is not that sort of a boy. I married him and Justine Van, and I know them both," said Mr. Marks, with final scorn, and went away. "These darn-fool preachers think they know everything," muttered Boswell. When the Grimeses set Justine down at her gate just before midnight, 'Gene Crawley, who stood unseen in the shadow of the lilac bush, waited breathlessly for the sign that might tell him how she had fared among the Philistines. All the evening he had been anxious. He could not put away the fear that she might be mistreated or slighted in some way up at Harbaugh's. But his heart jumped with joy when he heard her voice. "Good-night," called Justine, as she sprang lightly to the ground. "I've had such a good time, Mrs. Grimes. And it was good of you to take me over with you." There was no mistaking the ring in her voice. Crawley's deep breath of relief seemed to himself almost audible. "I thought you was having a right good time, Justine," said Martin Grimes, with a laugh. "You cut in pretty free." "Well, it was an awfully nice party," said Mrs. Grimes. "Everybody seemed to enjoy it." "I'm so glad I went. Thank you, ever so much," Justine said, and there was a song in her voice. Her step was light and full of life as she sped up the path to the door of the cottage. "Thank the Lord," thought 'Gene, as he strode off into the night, "I guess it was all right for her, after all. She's been happy to-night." CHAPTER XXI. THE COMING IN THE NIGHT.