But Miss Miflin's surprise was nothing to be compared to the surprise of two of the occupants of the wooden chairs. Daniel Swartz's eyes widened, and Jacob Kalb nudged him visibly. "It is Sarah and the zwillings," he cried. "Sarah and the zwillings!" Uncle Daniel had had a moment of severe fright. The lawyer had told him that they had only to go to the court-house to get the papers. But his fright passed. "Pooh, what do I care?" he said. "I have my lawyer, and I paid him twenty-five dollars already. I am not afraid of no zwillings. Nor yet no school-teacher," he added under his breath. In Uncle Daniel's mind, the days of Miss Miflin in the Spring Grove School were numbered. But the surprises were not yet over. The tall gentleman found places for Miss Miflin and the children near the desk at the front of the room. Sarah looked up at him with a mixture of gratitude and alarm. "Couldn't you stay by us?" she whispered. The stranger laughed. "I'm not going away," he answered. Then to the amazement of Miss Miflin and Sarah and the consternation of Daniel Swartz, he took his place behind the desk. "They were already by the judge!" said Uncle Daniel. "It is not fair, it--" "I'd advise you to be quiet," said Mr. Weaver curtly. Sarah seized Miss Miflin's arm. "Was it--was--it _him_?" she asked. "Yes," answered Miss Miflin. "It was." She saw the judge smiling at their surprise, and she felt suddenly that it was all less of a wild-goose chase than she had feared. It was comforting, also, that there was about this hearing none of the formality of a court trial. The judge wore no gown, there was no prisoners' dock, no loud-voiced crier; it was more like the office of a country squire. Miss Miflin whispered to the twins to take off their sunbonnets, and not to speak unless the judge spoke to them. The clerk of the court read Daniel Swartz's application, and then Mr. Weaver rose. He had not anticipated any objections, and he was not in a good humor. He felt that he was wasting his time over an unimportant case. He said briefly that the children had no natural guardian, except their uncle Daniel Swartz, an upright, prosperous man, who was willing to take from his own important business the time necessary to look after their affairs. "He is a school-director, a member of the Reformed Church in good standing, and a prosperous farmer. Could a more suitable person be found? The oldest of the children is fourteen--" "I am fifteen," said Sarah. The men in the court-room smiled, and the lawyer went on as though he had not heard. "It will be years before she is of age. How can such a child possibly look after a farm and bring up three children? They do not _want_ a guardian; few children would, after having been allowed to run loose for years. But in their own interest, and in the interest especially of these younger children, I ask that Daniel Swartz be made their guardian."