“But you let her think so.” “I?” exclaimed Zeb. “I never touched her. Euphemia, George is as innocent of that bell business as you or I.” Effie burst out into a merry peal of laughter over Zeb’s response and the manner of it, but there were other curious questioners drawing near, and she hurried away. Away from that spot, indeed, but her father’s house did not come to Effie’s mind just then, as the pleasantest place of refuge in the world, and, instead of seeking that shelter, she turned her footsteps towards Mrs. Wood’s for a bit of a chat with Sibyl. A very excellent choice, but why should Effie Dryer have blushed so deeply, when Sibyl’s mother met her in the hall and put her soft arms around her and gave her such a sweet and motherly kiss? So very different was that kiss from any that Effie had received from her father’s third wife. CHAPTER XXXI GOOD NEWS FOR BAR When George Brayton arrived in the great city that Tuesday morning, he went directly to the hotel designated by Ashbel Norton’s telegram, and neither one of them had the slightest suspicion that an earlier train had brought a more important passenger. The Englishman had a good deal to tell Brayton, of course, but it was nothing compared to Dr. Manning’s talk with Bar Vernon, at an earlier hour, before he sent him down to the office of Judge Danvers. Poor Bar! If his brain had been busy during his journey, it was all in a whirl now, and the only real help he got was when good, sweet-faced Mrs. Manning put her arm around him and said, as if she could not help it: “Oh, if they had but found you before your mother died!” That was just what Bar needed, for it brought the tears to his eyes, and there is nothing else in all the world so good as a few tears at the right time and place. By the time Bar reached the law-office, therefore, he was as clear-headed and ready-witted as the Judge himself could have asked for, and the latter confessed his surprise at the way his young friend comprehended every point of the story, and at the really important things he was able to bring to light from his “old time” memory. “There will be no difficulty whatever,” exclaimed the Judge. “Indeed, I do not imagine Mr. Norton, or those he represents, will attempt to make any. I never saw a case more entirely clear of doubt.” “It’s all like a dream,” said Bar, “but I suppose it’s true.” “True enough,” said the Judge. “Now go and get a lunch, for you must be tired enough, with all these papers. By the time you get back, I think, the rest will be here.” Barnaby was glad enough to get a bit of sunlight and a breath of fresh air, not to speak of coffee and oysters, although the latter were by no means unwelcome. When he returned to the law-office, however, he passed through the outer rooms, to Judge Danvers’s own private door, with a heart which beat more and more briskly at every step.