"Listen to me, John Regis! Women are not parties. They are always factions, little, little factions, the one working against the other, because they have no really important issue at stake. Now, my arbor-vitæ trees——"
The door opened and a young girl stood upon the threshold hesitating, as if she was not sure she was in the right place.
She was very tall, one of those cool, gray-eyed, ivory-skinned brunettes who always remind the beholder of white lilies blooming in the dark. Her lips were full, faintly pinkly purple, and affirmative, not beseeching. She stood with one hand upon the knob behind her, bent a little forward, the skirt of her white dress blown by the wind through the door, her eyes showing almost black beneath the brim of her white hat.
"Selah! Is it for you we've been waiting?" This from Mrs. Walton.
"Come, Selah, you are almost late! That would have been a bad beginning," said the Judge, rising, taking her hand and leading her to a chair.
"You sent for me?" the girl said, as if there might still be some mistake about that.
"Yes, yes! Sit down!"
"Mercy on us! What does the man mean? Do you know what he means, Selah, sending for the oldest and ugliest and the youngest and fairest woman in Jordantown to meet him in his office at this outrageous hour of the afternoon?"
"How do you do, Mrs. Walton?" Selah greeted.
"I don't do at all, my dear; I'm tired of doing. I should be taking my nap!"