The evening was perfect, and when the party rose from the table they gravitated as usual to the piazza.
"What a clear horizon!" said Edna. "The moon will be coming up in a few minutes. Do you feel properly romantic, Judge Trent?"
"I feel the nearest approach to it that a man in my class ever does," he replied. "That was an excellent supper, Edna. If you'll show me the way to the kitchen I could almost kiss the cook, if she would consider it."
Miss Lacey was listening and bridling triumphantly behind a neighboring pillar.
"You needn't go so far," rejoined Edna gayly. "Miss Lacey made that dessert."
The judge was unperturbed, as he stood, his hands clasped behind him. "In that case, Martha," he remarked, his impersonal gaze resting on the shadowy distance, "please consider yourself chastely saluted."
"This evening demands music," said Edna. "I'll sing for you to-night, John."
"Good girl," returned Dunham, with an involuntary glance toward Sylvia's starlit face.
The hostess went indoors, and Sylvia started after her. "Do you mind if I sit near the piano, Edna?" she asked.
"And miss the moonrise? I certainly should not allow it. Stay right where you were."