“You might ask her,” said Mahaffy cynically.  “Nothing like going to headquarters for the news!”

“Solomon, Solomon, give me credit for common sense—­go further, and give me credit for common decency!  Don’t let us forget that ever since we came here she has manifested a charmingly hospitable spirit where we are concerned!”

“Wouldn’t charity hit nearer the mark, Price?”

“I have never so regarded it, Solomon,” said the judge mildly.  “I have read a different meaning in the beef and flour and potatoes she’s sent here.  I expect if the truth could be known to us she is wondering in the midst of her grief why I haven’t called, but she’ll appreciate the considerate delicacy of a gentleman.  I wish it were possible to get cut flowers in this cussed wilderness!”

The judge had been occupied with a simple but ingenious toilet.  He had trimmed the frayed skirts of, his coat; then by turning his cuffs inside out and upside down a fresh surface made its first public appearance.  Next his shoes had engaged his attention.  They might have well discouraged a less resolute and resourceful character, but with the contents of his ink-well he artfully colored his white yarn socks where they showed though the rifts in the leather.  This the judge did gaily, now humming a snatch of song, now listening civilly to Mahaffy, now replying with undisturbed cheerfulness.  Last of all he clapped his dingy beaver on his head, giving it an indescribably jaunty slant, and stepped to the door.

“Well, wish me luck, Solomon, I’m off—­come, Hannibal!” he said.  At heart he cherished small hope of seeing Betty, advantageous as he felt an interview might prove.  However, on reaching Belle Plain he and Hannibal were shown into the cool parlor by little Steve.  It was more years than the judge cared to remember since he had put his foot inside such a house, but with true grandeur of soul he rose to the occasion; a sublimated dignity shone from every battered feature, while he fixed little Steve with so fierce a glance that the grin froze on his lips.

“You are to say that judge Slocum Price presents his compliments and condolences to Miss Malroy—­have you got that straight, you pinch of soot?” he concluded affably.  Little Steve, impressed alike by the judge’s air of condescension and his easy flow of words, signified that he had.  “You may also say that judge Price’s ward, young Master Hazard, presents his compliments and condolences—­” What more the judge might have said was interrupted by the entrance of Betty, herself.

“My dear young lady—­” the judge bowed, then he advanced toward her with the solemnity of carriage and countenance he deemed suitable to the occasion, and her extended hand was engulfed between his two plump palms.  He rolled his eyes heavenward.  “It’s the Lord’s to deal with us as His own inscrutable wisdom dictates,” he murmured with pious resignation.  “We are all poorer, ma’am, that he has died—­just