They found themselves in a great, empty hall, with many doors on each side. The twins, after a moment's silent contemplation, tried to puzzle out the signs above the doors. "Clerk of the Court" was easy. "District Attorney" and "Prothonotary" were harder. "Are we going to one of those places?" whispered Louisa Ellen. They had never been to a circus, but they were feeling the same pleasant thrills that a small boy would feel at sight of the closed tents. "I don't know," answered Miss Miflin, more to herself than to them. "We must see some one." "Could I go and ask?" inquired Sarah. "No," answered Miss Miflin. "Are you afraid to wait here a minute with the twins, while I see what I can do?" At that moment a door at the upper end of the hall opened, and a tall gentleman came toward them. At sight of them his step slackened, and he looked at them curiously. He, too, remembered the little Pennsylvania German schoolhouse to which he had gone as a small boy. He did not wait for Miss Miflin to speak to him. "Is there anything I can do for you?" he asked courteously. Miss Miflin looked up into the kindly face. "Why, yes. But it would take a few minutes to explain, and I don't like to keep you." "Oh, I shall be glad to help. Only--" The gentleman looked back over his shoulder. The door of the prothonotary's office had opened. In a moment two or three idle young clerks would be in the hall, curious to see the girl whose voice they heard. He opened the nearest door, and stepped back for Miss Miflin and the twins to enter. "Come in here," he said. The little room into which they went was stiffly furnished in the fashion of fifty years ago, as an ante-room to the judge's private office. It was not often used; the horsehair-covered chairs, set neatly against the wall, and the dark heavy velvet curtains were unworn. To the twins it was a marvelously beautiful place. Miss Miflin and Sarah saw nothing but the kindly face which invited them to tell their story. "These children are orphans," Miss Miflin began. "Their father was Henry Wenner of Spring Grove township, who died about a month ago. He had been an invalid for some years, and Sarah, the oldest girl, managed the farm." "Ebert ploughed for me and farmed for the half," explained Sarah. She had taken her sunbonnet off, and her bright eyes looked first at the stranger, then at Miss Miflin. "He would help me yet. I could get good along, if they would only leave me be." "The father made no will, and no provision for the children, but it was his wish that they stay together." "And mom said always so too," added Sarah. "Are there any relatives?" asked the stranger. "Yes, their mother's brother, Daniel Swartz. He lives on the next farm. But there was never any friendship between the two families while these children's parents lived. Now he has made application to be appointed guardian, and it doesn't seem necessary or right that he should be. He--"