The host breathed a sigh of relief, and his sharp eyes began to question Dunham while he collected himself sufficiently to bring forward a chair for the lady.
"You honor me, Mar—Miss Lacey," he said.
"Thank you—Judge Trent," she returned, and giving his figure a comprehensive glance from top to toe, she touched her bonnet significantly as she sat down.
He did not observe the gesture. "Well," he said, resuming his seat and waving Dunham to another, "so you have come to tell me of your success. Very kind of you."
The speaker's endeavor to be courteous was offset by an impatient drumming of his fingers on the desk and the drawing together of his brows.
Martha ignored the signs. Let him drum. Let him scowl. "No," she returned impressively, "we have come to tell you of our failure."
Her manner was trying. It irritated her host still further. "How so?" he demanded.
She measured him with a severe gaze. "Calvin, you are wearing your hat," she announced frigidly.
"Eh? Oh! Pardon me." With hasty discomfiture the lawyer deposited his boon companion on the table.
"Oh! not in all that dust!" implored Miss Lacey.