“Happened to be passing!  How often did you happen to pass?” Belle interrupted, with a face full of mischief.

“You are not a judge, ma’am, and so can’t cross-question,” he answered, with a quick blush but a defiant little nod, “and if you were, no one is obliged to incriminate himself.  I was merely passing, and the movements of that scamp, Bissel, slightly awakened my curiosity, and I followed him and the girl.  I was exceedingly fortunate, and saw enough to enable the judge to draw from the girl the whole story.  Now you see what a simple, prosaic part I played.  Miss Jocelyn, in keeping up so bravely through scenes and experiences that were perfectly horrible to her, is the heroine of the piece.  By Jove!—­beg your pardon, Mr. Wentworth—­it was as good as a play to see how she looked her innocence into the heart and mind of the judge.  I saw the judicial frost in his eyes melting like two icicles on the south side of a barn.  Oh, the judge could see as far into a millstone as the next man,” he continued, laughing, as if he relished the memory hugely.  “After those horrid old hags were sent along so fast to where they belonged, he looked when Miss Jocelyn appeared as if a whole picture gallery were before him.  He could keep up his official regulation manner, but his eyes paid a certain prisoner many compliments.”

“Roger, you’ve got the eyes of a lynx,” said Belle, and Mildred was human enough to show the pleasure she felt at his words.

“Nonsense,” replied the young fellow in sudden confusion.  “Any one who has learned to hunt well gets a quick eye.”

“The judge’s eyes at least were not at all to blame,” added Mr. Wentworth, laughing, and looking at Mildred so kindly and admiringly that the color which was stealing into her face deepened rapidly.  “Well, to come down to business.  Roger and I have been to see your employers, and we talked to them rather strongly.  While they insist that they were misled and not to blame, they felt remorseful, and we struck while they were in their regretful mood.  They give you a week’s vacation, and send you twenty-five dollars as a small compensation for what you have suffered.”

“I don’t want it,” cried Mildred indignantly.

“Oh yes, you do; besides it’s only spoiling the Philistines.  They had already discharged that scoundrel Bissel, and they intend prosecuting the girl.  They apologize to you, and promise to raise your wages, but I think I can obtain enough sewing and fancy work to render it unnecessary for you to go back unless you prefer it.  I don’t want to think of your being subjected to that barbarous rule of standing any longer.  I know of a lady on Fifth Avenue who is a host if she once becomes interested in any one, and through her I think I can enlist enough people to keep you busy.  I feel sure she will be our ally when she knows all.”

“Oh, if I could only stay with mamma and work at home, I should be so glad,” was the young girl’s response.