At last a strange look overspread his face. The blood rushed to it. Again he took off a rubber band and ran his eyes over the various papers. Then he scowled, and, snatching up the wastebasket, fished out the top scraps. He regarded them aghast. Presently a sound rang through that office which had never resounded in Dunham's time. Judge Trent laughed loud and long.
"Boy, I'll have to confess it," he said, as John looked up in questioning amazement. "I've torn up that new deed we made out." He laughed again, and Dunham joined him in a spontaneous burst.
"Who are you in love with, Judge Trent?" he asked.
"You, I guess," returned the lawyer, bluntly. He rose and came again to the younger man's side, and the excitement in his face showed now as gravity.
"John," he said, "is it Sylvia?"
Dunham rose. "Yes, it's Sylvia," he answered.
Their hands met in a strenuous clasp.
"You young fool," said the judge after a minute, "is that where you were philandering when you ought to have been courting Edna?"
"You've guessed right again."
The judge's thin hand clung to the young, firm one, and he tried in vain to hold his lips steady.