"Well, it got the Judge his reappointment to the school board."
"He deserved it, didn't he?"
"I deserved it," she said luxuriously, hugging her knee and smiling; "you see, his appointment meant mine."
"Well, what of it—didn't—"
"Listen," she cut in a little sharply. "Once a young brown girl, with boundless faith in white folks, went to a Judge's office to ask for an appointment which she deserved. There was no one there. The benign old Judge with his saintly face and white hair suggested that she lay aside her wraps and spend the afternoon."
Bles arose to his feet.
"What—what did you do?" he asked.
"Sit down—there's a good boy." I said: "'Judge, a friend is expecting me at two,' it was then half-past one, 'would I not best telephone?'"
"'Step right into the booth,' said the Judge, quite indulgently." Miss Wynn leaned back, and Bles felt his heart sinking; but he said nothing. "And then," she continued, "I telephoned the Judge's wife that he was anxious to see her on a matter of urgent business; namely, my appointment." She gazed reflectively out of the window. "You should have seen his face when I told him," she concluded. "I was appointed."
But Bles asked coldly: