Dunham's feelings were inexpressible, and his one devout thanksgiving was that Edna was ignorant of his own banality.
Suddenly she ran out of the room to the head of the stairs. "Miss Lacey," she called, "will you bring Judge Trent up here?"
The request startled Miss Martha into a sudden panic. "Dear me, Calvin, Edna wants us. I'm afraid Sylvia is ill. She looked it this noon. Oh, I assure you she never would have stayed upstairs from laziness, never in this world. She"—
But Judge Trent was already far in advance of the speaker, and Miss Lacey tripped upstairs after him, briskly.
"Come here, both of you, and I will make you proud," said Edna as they entered the room. "These sketches are your niece's work."
"Aren't they the queerest things you ever saw?" asked Miss Martha, adjusting her eyeglasses the better to peer at the brown sheets. "But there's the Ledges, and there's Beacon Island, and the West Shore, and our own swimming pool from over on the Point, and"—
"Judge Trent, do you know about such work?" asked Edna. "Do you care for this sort of thing?"
"Yes, in an ignorant sort of a way. Certainly I do."
"If you found Sylvia talented, you'd help her, I'm sure you would."
"Of course. Why? You appear excited."