The Judge himself went downtown, and the tired Berty, putting down her head on the sofa beside young Tom, fell asleep, and did not wake till Bethany and the Judge came home for luncheon.
After lunch there was a long drive with the Judge. Baby again was good, but upon coming back to the avenue he distinguished himself. Before dinner was announced he had successively worn out the Judge, his mother, Dallas, Titus, and Bethany. He had beaten Higby with a hearth-brush, pulled out two of Sukey’s tail feathers and sent her shrieking out to the balcony, upset a bottle of ink on the handsome study carpet, torn leaves out of a valuable Shakespeare that he snatched from the table, and generally conducted himself with such shameless impropriety that his young mother at last slapped his hands.
He promptly whipped hers. “Never mind, dear Judge,” she said, with an imploring glance at him. “After dinner you will be rid of this nightmare.”
The Judge smiled cheerfully. “I assure you I have not suffered. If you worry I shall suffer, so please forgive your baby. He is full of animal spirits.”
She kissed the little hands that she was holding, then looked up as Jennie uttered her name.
The modest, pretty young maid stood in the doorway and gazed alternatively at the Judge and at Berty.
“There’s a lady downstairs,” she said, doubtfully. “She asked if Judge Sancroft lived here. She said she must see Mrs. Everest. It was something very special. Her name is Mrs. Tralee, and she has a little boy with her.”
Berty gave a joyful cry. “O, Judge, dear Judge, she has got her boy. Come downstairs with me. Jennie, look after the baby—I can’t take him down in the parlor; he would demolish every bit of bric-a-brac there. Come, dear Judge,” and seizing his hand she drew him from the room.
A little, a very little woman stood in the middle of the large parlor. The Judge gazed intently at her. Berty had spoken truly when she had said that Mrs. Tralee was mostly eyes and veil—and what eyes!
The Judge stepped back. He felt himself an intruder. This was no common scene, and there was no formal introduction. The two women stood for an instant looking at the little boy who accompanied the lady. Then they fell on each other’s necks—that is, Berty and the little widow.