"Uncle Daniel is going to give us a dollar!" she said, in tones of such wonder and amazement that the court-room rocked with mirth. [Illustration: UNCLE DANIEL SMILED AND DREW OUT TWO SHINING DOLLARS] "Order!" said the judge, after a long minute. Then Mr. Weaver knew--though Uncle Daniel did not as yet--that his cause was lost. Uncle Daniel put the money back into his pocket, shamefacedly. This would be another score to settle with the twins when this foolish court business was over. Then he heard that the judge was speaking. "Whom would you like to have for your guardian, children?" Sarah looked up at Miss Miflin. To her the word guardian meant unpleasant oversight, interference. Must they have a guardian at all? But Miss Miflin did not seem troubled in the least. What she said was unpremeditated; she did not realize until after the words were out that the lawyer's sharp eyes and the judge's kindly eyes were watching her so closely, nor could she foresee that her face would become a flaming crimson. "I don't see why they need a guardian at all," she said. "They have an older brother." "Oh," said the judge. "Why, then, was the application made?" At that moment Jacob Kalb had come finally to the conclusion that he had been silent long enough. "He went three years ago already to Alaska," he said. "He will never come home." "Oh, he will!" cried little Sarah. "And if he does come home," went on Jacob Kalb coolly, "what will he have to say about the school-board money that he took along with him to Alaska?" "Oh, for shame!" cried Miss Miflin. "Yes," answered Jacob. "Stealing is a shame." "He did _not_ steal!" Miss Miflin's voice shook. She knew they were watching her curiously; she heard the door open to admit another inquisitive clerk, who she saw dimly was tall and broad of shoulder, but she did not care if the whole world were there to hear. "His father paid the money, and he has never had any chance to defend himself." "Stealing is stealing," said Jacob Kalb doggedly. CHAPTER VII "AND NOW WE WILL GO HOME" On the day upon which she took possession of the Wenner homestead, Mrs. Jacob Kalb was destined to have more than one shock. She let two pies burn while she thought of little Sarah, who looked so ill, and who had started away so wildly. She was just about to put on her shawl and go up to the Swartz house, to ask whether Sarah was there, when the door opened again. This time it was not pushed open by Sarah's gentle hand, but was flung back, as though the master of the house were about to enter. Thinking it was her husband, Mrs. Kalb did not turn at once. "Well, did you get back?" she asked. Then, with her arms uplifted to the hook where her shawl hung, she looked round over her shoulder. A tall young man stood, not on the step, where tramps and agents belonged, but in the kitchen itself, his hand on Mrs. Kalb's freshly scrubbed table.