"Yes, confound you!"
"Then we're fixed, Martha," said Judge Trent calmly. "You're all right, Dunham. You didn't overrate yourself at all."
"But I don't understand," exclaimed Martha tremulously, looking from one to the other.
Judge Trent opened the door for her ceremoniously.
"The intricate workings of the law, Martha, are difficult of explanation; but, after all, what do you care if the net result proves to be the arrival of your niece at the Mill Farm in a few days."
"Of your niece, Calvin," returned Miss Lacey, moving to the door, followed by Dunham, whose brow was lowering. "Don't think of coming with me, Mr. Dunham," she added, turning to him. "It is still fully light—and," ingratiatingly, "did you say you were going to telegraph Sylvia?"
"Yes."
"What shall he say, Calvin?"
"I should trust his judgment before my own," returned the lawyer. "Here's your eight dollars, Boy, and you're a trump."
John took the money without smiling; but he was glad to know about the farm.