"I'm not going away," he answered. Then to the amazement of Miss Miflin and Sarah and the consternation of Daniel Swartz, he took his place behind the desk.
"They were already by the judge!" said Uncle Daniel. "It is not fair, it—"
"I'd advise you to be quiet," said Mr. Weaver curtly.
Sarah seized Miss Miflin's arm.
"Was it—was—it him?" she asked.
"Yes," answered Miss Miflin. "It was."
She saw the judge smiling at their surprise, and she felt suddenly that it was all less of a wild-goose chase than she had feared.
It was comforting, also, that there was about this hearing none of the formality of a court trial. The judge wore no gown, there was no prisoners' dock, no loud-voiced crier; it was more like the office of a country squire. Miss Miflin whispered to the twins to take off their sunbonnets, and not to speak unless the judge spoke to them.
The clerk of the court read Daniel Swartz's application, and then Mr. Weaver rose. He had not anticipated any objections, and he was not in a good humor. He felt that he was wasting his time over an unimportant case. He said briefly that the children had no natural guardian, except their uncle Daniel Swartz, an upright, prosperous man, who was willing to take from his own important business the time necessary to look after their affairs.
"He is a school-director, a member of the Reformed Church in good standing, and a prosperous farmer. Could a more suitable person be found? The oldest of the children is fourteen—"