Miss Lacey regarded the shrewd face in the intervals of wiping her eyes. "You'll telegraph to Sylvia, and send another message to Thinkright to come right here. Of course we can't be sure that Sylvia will get it, though—and there's all Thinkright's traveling expenses." The speaker's wet eyes looked appealing.
"Dunham's going to tell us where Sylvia is," returned the judge quietly. He paused, and Martha looked bewildered by this persistence. She turned toward John questioningly.
"I can't," replied Dunham again.
Judge Trent shrugged his shabby shoulders. "Oh, well, I suppose you can telegraph for us, then."
John swallowed, and meeting the lawyer's eyes, realized that he might as well save circumlocution.
"Well—yes."
"Of all things!" exclaimed Martha, with a start. "What do you mean?"
The judge hooked his thumbs in his armholes, regarding Dunham quizzically. "How about Jacob Johnson, Esquire, alias Thinkright. Do you suppose if I sent to him to shake the hayseed out of his hair and come on here you might unburden yourself to him somewhat?"
"Look here, Judge Trent," said Dunham, with exasperation, "perhaps you think I've had a pleasant day."
The lawyer approached the speaker and patted his big arm. "Could you, John, could you, do you think?"