“To-day?”
“We came down here to be married, but were refused a license because I am not of age, and hadn’t anybody to give consent. But if this lady, who is of age, could legally adopt me before the marriage bureau closed, then, you see, she could give the necessary consent.”
The Court laughed until his whole bulk was a heaving frame of merriment. But he was absorbed again in an instant, and after a moment’s deliberation he took down their names and ages and wrote briefly:
“And you say the child is willing?”
“He seems to be.”
Half an hour later, Paula Dennison had been formally appointed guardian of her future lord and master, and had given her written consent to his marriage. The Court himself conducted them to the license bureau, explained matters to the dry little clerk, dryer and more hurried than ever, witnessed the marriage, kissed the bride, escorted them down-stairs, and put them into a cab.
The Court was still standing to smile after the departing carriage when another came lurching up from the direction of the station. Even before it could stop, a middle-aged man had burst out and was striding up the steps with dark and concerted purpose on his flushed face. The Court stared at him, at first absently, then with dawning suspicion—chin, blue eyes, carriage—surely such a resemblance could not be a mere coincidence! After a brief hesitation he discreetly followed, and suspicion grew to conviction as the man turned to the marriage license bureau. The Court, lurking in the shadow of the open door, heard him demand whether a young woman named Dennison had tried to get married there to-day.
“Married fifteen minutes ago.”
“But they couldn’t be—the boy wasn’t of age. ’Tain’t legal. You had no right to issue a license. Why, I’ll have you—”
“The applicant had the written consent of his guardian.”