"Certainly," returned Dunham smoothly. "It's time such unneighborly habits were broken up. And say, Judge, ask her to feel round and find out if Miss Derwent doesn't want to see me at her island this summer."

"H'm. Trust you among those lobster traps?" returned the judge irascibly. "Never. I feel some responsibility to your family."

As Miss Lacey said afterward, it was the greatest mercy that she wasn't out that evening. She had been inclined to go over to Selina Lane's to get a skirt pattern, but some trifle had prevented her setting forth, so that she sat rocking gently in her sitting-room, enjoying blind man's holiday at about eight o'clock, and reflecting on the contents of a letter from Miss Derwent which she held in her lap, when she saw in the dusk an unmistakable figure turn in at her gate.

"Calvin!" she exclaimed, and surprised color mounted to her forehead as she rose to open the door.

"No lights. I thought you were out," was Judge Trent's greeting.

Now Miss Lacey knew from the etiquette column in "The Ladies' Friend"

that it was _de rigueur_ to allow a gentleman caller to take care of his own hat, but, as she reflected in a lightning flash, that authority on manners and morals in "The Ladies' Friend" had never met Judge Trent. The reluctance with which he now yielded up his boon companion vindicated her lack of confidence. She deposited it on the hall table.

"Step right in, Calvin," she went on. "I hardly know how to wait for your news. I'll light the lamp in an instant." She proceeded to do so, conscious of a fleeting wish that the visitor would note the brightness of the chimney and clearness of the flame, and read a lesson to Hannah.

She breathed a sigh as she realized the hopelessness of the aspiration.

The judge was standing, waiting in silence for her to be seated. No movement or expression showed that the objects about him bore different a.s.sociations from those connected with his office furniture, and if she took her seat on the haircloth sofa with an idea that he would join her she was disappointed. He parted his coat-tails and perched upon a straight-backed structure of mahogany, usually avoided by every caller.

"Well, Martha, I haven't much to tell. She's very pretty."

"I told you so, Calvin. I told you that was the trouble."

"Precisely. In addition I must say she has very little use for us,--for you and me."

Miss Lacey shook her head mournfully. "How did she treat you? Did she flash up and snap her eyes?"

"No, she shut them with a sort of a take-it-away expression."

"But she is safe now, isn't she? You will let her stay at the farm, won't you?"

"Yes, of course," returned the judge.

"Does she look so ill and pitiful?"

"No, she's picking up. She seems perfectly contented under Thinkright's wing."

"You don't know what that means," returned Miss Martha fervently.

"After that dreadful talk about the stage, and marrying actors, I didn't know as she'd be willing to stay in the country with a plain man like Thinkright."

"She doesn't think he's plain. She considers him a mixture of Adonis and Solomon."

"Very well. Whatever _you_ may see fit to do, Calvin, _I_ shall thank G.o.d on my bended knees," declared Miss Martha devoutly. "To think that her immortal soul isn't lost and our two families disgraced through our--_own_--_fault_, is a blessing we don't either of us deserve."

"Rub it in, Martha, rub it in," returned the judge.

"No, I'm not one of the nagging kind. I don't intend to rub it in, but I'll own it, once and for all. Go on, please. What else?"

Judge Trent waved his hands. "Nothing else, practically."

"Why, there must be a lot more to tell. If _I'd_ been the one to go up there I should have a thousand things to tell you."

The lawyer raised one devout glance toward the ceiling. "I'm sure of it, Martha; but you know the limitations of a mere man. Beside, I suppose pretty soon now you will be seeing for yourself. Miss Derwent said she should go early this season."

"Why, yes. Next week. I just received the letter to-day. It comes as a surprise, and I shall have to hurry, getting ready to close my house.

Edna hadn't expected to be free so quickly, but her parents' plans have changed, and so hers can. She's been up at the farm, too, and seen Sylvia, you know."

"Yes. We all know Sylvia now," returned the judge with grim humor.

"Oh, I wish you would tell me more," begged Miss Martha. "Did she treat you decently before you came away?"

"Oh, yes. You know Thinkright's peculiar notions. His h.e.l.l-fire is right here or nowhere, and he's been teaching Sylvia how to keep her toes out of the flames,--how to climb up out of these lowlands of sorrow. She was pretty well stranded after years of vagabond life.

Excuse me, Martha, but we all knew Sam; and after our rebuff she was in a fit state to swallow Thinkright's cheerful theories whole. I don't claim much knowledge of what I can't see or touch, but it wouldn't surprise me if the Power that Is let us sidetrack ourselves on purpose to put Sylvia in Thinkright's care. I shouldn't have known how to handle the results of Sam's training, and if you'd had the job I suspect you'd have begun at the outside and tried to teach the girl habits of order and all that. Thinkright and I sat up late one night talking the matter over. Sylvia would have driven you to drink, and you would have driven her to join a traveling circus."

"Calvin!" interrupted Miss Martha, gasping. "I'm a white ribbon"--

"You are, Martha, without a spot or stain; but it wouldn't have been any use to try to veneer Sylvia, as it were. Now these remarks are not opprobrious. They are designed to comfort you for the apparent mistakes of the trip to Hotel Frisbie. Things have come out better than we could have arranged them. Sylvia's guardian angel was holding Thinkright in the background, like a trump card, as you might say"--

"No, I mightn't, Calvin Trent! You're saying the most awful things!"

exclaimed Miss Lacey.

"Well, you'll be up there in a few days," remarked the judge, rising.

"I just wanted to a.s.sure you that Sylvia is doing well, and that you can be perfectly tranquil about her; so good-by, Martha. I hope you will have a satisfactory summer."

"We shall see you at Hawk Island, of course," returned Miss Lacey, as they shook hands. "Edna always counts on it, you know."

"It will perhaps do quite as well if I send Dunham. He is accustomed to representing me."

"Oh, is he coming to the Tide Mill?" asked Miss Martha in pleasant surprise.

"There's no telling. I suppose he'll have to take a vacation somewhere.

Young men are so unreasonable nowadays. Imagine me at his age kiting off to the seash.o.r.e."

"Why, I'm sure," returned Miss Martha with some consciousness, "we used to enjoy those drives to Swampscott very much."

"Another incarnation. That was another incarnation," responded the lawyer quickly, pa.s.sing into the hall where he pounced eagerly upon the hat from which he had endured such ruthless separation. Saying good-by once more, he departed.

Miss Lacey watched him disappear into the star-lit, fragrant night.

"If _I'd_ married him," she murmured, "he wouldn't wear a coat after it was shiny at the seams."

Her heart was beating a little faster than usual, and her cheeks were warm as she closed the door.

CHAPTER XV

A FLITTING