“There!” said Catherine half aloud. “That is infinitely better. I wish I dared throw half of these papers away. I know they’re perfectly worthless.” She took a step toward the big wire basket, as though to bring it conveniently near.
“Not to-day, Miss Catherine,” and the judge took her hand and bowed over it. “Is this what they teach you at college?”
Catherine laughed. She had never been afraid of Judge Arthur.
20“They teach us all the womanly graces, Your Honor,” she answered, “and not least among them is tidiness. I should have had you looking beautifully neat in another five minutes.”
Judge Arthur shivered. “And you would doubtless have made a bonfire of this,” picking up one dog’s-eared document, “old Mr. Witherton’s will; and this, a deed to an estate; and this, a bit of important evidence in a criminal case.”
“Well,” Catherine argued, “they shouldn’t be left about so carelessly, under paper-weights and ash-trays. I do want to do some housecleaning for you, Judge Arthur. That’s why I’m here this afternoon. Not just an office, either, but a whole building.”
The judge placed a chair for her, dusting it elaborately with Mr. Witherton’s will as he did so.
“Tell me all about it,” he invited.
Catherine took the chair, her fresh white gown contrasting as sharply with its shabby leather as her warm youth did with the judge’s withered look. He watched her with keen, appreciating eyes. Algernon in his corner read on, and Catherine thought best not to disturb him. Men found it harder to meet Algernon on fair ground than women did.
The judge asked a pertinent question or two as Catherine unfolded the great scheme; then he drew a check-book from under a broken-backed dictionary.