Judge Thorn looked comfortable in his leather chair, his slippered feet on a hassock and a new book in his hand. At any rate, Jean thought so, as she studied him from between the parted curtains, but she was relentless. Stealing softly behind him, she pressed her hands over his eyes. The judge started, and the young lady laughed merrily.
Then she tried to steal away his book, but he held it.
"Let me put it up, father, I want to talk to you."
The judge still held the book.
"Then I will say 'please.'"
"Is it to be a political conversation?" he asked, gravely.
"Not a breath of politics about it," she answered.
"Any statistics to be brought in?" he questioned further.
Jean laughed again.