“Oh, yes, certainly!  Of course!” he said hastily, and added:  “Will you walk in?”

She walked in—­to the private office, that is—­and the Judge, following her, closed the door.  His clerk stared wistfully at his own side of that door for a full minute, then sighed heavily and resumed his work, which was copying a list of household effects belonging to a late lamented who had willed them, separately and individually, to goodness knew how many cousins, first, second, and third.

In the private office the Judge asked his visitor to be seated.  She took the chair he brought forward.  Then she said: 

“You don’t remember me, I think, Judge Baxter.  I am Mary Lathrop.”

The Judge looked puzzled.  The name sounded familiar, but he could not seem to identify its owner.

“Perhaps you would remember me if I told you my whole name,” suggested the latter.  “I am Mary Augusta Lathrop.  I think perhaps you used to call me Mary-’Gusta; most people did.”

Then the Judge remembered.  His astonishment was great.

“Mary-’Gusta Lathrop!” he repeated.  “Mary-’Gusta!  Are you—?  Why, it scarcely seems possible!  And yet, now that I look, I can see that it is.  Bless my soul and body!  How do you do?  It must be almost—­er—­seven or eight years since I have seen you.  South Harniss is only a few miles off, but I am getting—­er—­older and I don’t drive as much as I used to.  But there!  I am very glad to see you now.  And how are Captain Gould and Mr. Hamilton?  There is no need to ask how you are.  Your looks are the best answer to that.”

Mary thanked him and said she was very well.  Her uncles, too, were well, she added, or they were when she last heard.

“I am on my way home to them now,” she added.  “For the past two years I have been at school in Boston.  I left there this morning and got off the train here because I wished very much to see you, Judge Baxter.  Yesterday—­last evening—­I heard something—­I was told something which, if it is true, is—­is—­”

She bit her lip.  She was evidently fighting desperately not to lose self-control.  The Judge was surprised and disturbed.

“Why, Mary!” he exclaimed.  “I suppose I may call you Mary still; as an old friend I hope I may.  What is the matter?  What did you hear?  What do you wish to see me about?”

She was calm enough now, but her earnestness was unmistakable.

“I heard something concerning myself and my uncles which surprised and shocked me dreadfully,” she said.  “I can hardly believe it, but I must know whether it is true or not.  I must know at once!  You can tell me the truth, Judge Baxter, if you only will.  That is why I came here this morning.  Will you tell it to me?  Will you promise that you will answer my questions, every one, with the exact truth and nothing else?  And answer them all?  Will you promise that?”

The Judge looked even more surprised and puzzled.  He rubbed his chin and smiled doubtfully.