CHAPTER I
JUDGE TRENT
Judge Trent's chair was tipped back at a comfortable angle for theaccommodation of his gaitered feet, which rested against the steamradiator in his private office. There had been a second desk introducedinto this sanctum within the last month, and the attitude of the youngman seated at it indicated but a brief suspension of business as helooked up to greet his employer.
The judge had just come in out of the cold and wet, and did not removehis silk hat as he seated himself to dry his shoes. He appeared alwaysreluctant to remove that hat. Spotlessly clean as were always thehabiliments that clothed his attenuated form, no one could rememberhaving seen the judge's hat smoothly brushed; and although in thecourse of thirty years it is unlikely that he never became possessed ofa new one, even the closest observer, and that was Martha Lacey, couldnot be certain of the transition period, probably owing to thelingering attachment with which the judge returned spasmodically to theheadgear which had accommodated itself to his bumps, and which he washeroically endeavoring to discard.
This very morning Miss Lacey in passing her old friend on the streethad been annoyed by the unusually rough condition of the hat he lifted.A few steps further on she happened to encounter the judge'shousekeeper, her market basket on her arm. Old Hannah's wrinkledcountenance did not grow less grim as Miss Lacey greeted her, but thatlady, nothing daunted, stopped to speak, her countenance alert and herbright gaze shining through her eyeglasses.
"I just met Judge Trent, Hannah. Dear me, can't you brush that hat ofhis a little? It looks for all the world like a black cat that has justcaught sight of a mastiff."
"I guess the judge knows how he wants his own hat," returned Hannah,her mouth working disapprovingly.
"But he doesn't realize how it looks. Some one asked me the other dayif I supposed Judge Trent slept in his hat."
"And I s'pose you told 'em you didn't know," returned the old womansourly. "He's got a right to sleep in it if he wants to," and she movedon while Miss Lacey looked after her for a moment, her lips set in atight line.
"Insolent!" she exclaimed. "All is I know he wouldn't do it if _I'd_married him," she added mentally, resuming her walk. Martha Lacey'ssense of humor was not keen, but suddenly the mental picture of JudgeTrent's shrewd, thin countenance, as it might appear in pillowedslumber surmounted by the high hat, overwhelmed her and she laughedsilently. Then she frowned with reddening cheeks. "Hannah'simpertinent," she murmured.
Judge Trent had read something of disapproval in Miss Lacey's glance asshe greeted him a few minutes ago, and he thought of her now as he sattilted back, his thumbs hooked easily in his arm holes, while hewatched the glistening dampness dry from his shoes.
"Martha probably disapproved because I didn't have on my rubbers," hethought, an inward jerk acknowledging the humor of the situation. Hehad not spoken often with Martha Lacey for many a year. Twenty-fivesprings had rolled by now since he proposed to her. She had hesitatedfor a week or so, and then, some difference arising between them, shehad refused him. He had led a busy life since then, absorbed in hisprofession of the law, and had won more than local fame. When recentlyhe decided to take some one into his office and, as he put it, ease upon himself, John Dunham, Harvard graduate, recently admitted to thebar, thought himself a lucky man to get the position even though itexchanged Boston for life in a neighboring rural city.
"Plenty of trains for Boston every day," Judge Trent had said when theyoung fellow arrived. "If either one of us doesn't like the arrangementyou can take one any hour, and no harm done."
That was less than a month ago, but already Calvin Trent had changedhis mind. Should he lose young Dunham, he would regret it.
He regarded John now as the clean-shaven profile bent over a lengthydocument. The judge had the small man's admiration for the stature andbuild of his assistant. He liked the sunshine of his smile, the steadygaze of his eyes. The young man's personality had impressed him fromthe first; but it was after the judge had proved the temper of his mindand quickness of his perception that he allowed these physicaladvantages to take their place as valuable assets.
"The boy's well born, and well raised," he said to himself. "I supposehe's some kind of a fool, he's too young not to be; but there's no signof it yet."
It was very pleasant not to have to hurry to the office in the morning,and not to be obliged to furnish all the brains that were supposed tobe accessible in this home of the law.
After a few minutes' silence Judge Trent looked up again from hissteaming shoes.
"Ever been in love, Dunham?" he asked suddenly.
The young lawyer raised his eyes, with evident effort to bring hisattention from the subject in hand, and regarded the quaint face andfigure of his employer.
The vagueness of his stare caused the judge to stir and cough with someembarrassment.
"Oh, no matter, of course. I just happened to think of it. When I wasyour age I had it bad: thought if I couldn't have that one girl lifewouldn't be worth living." The speaker's foot slipped on the radiator,and he readjusted his chair.
"Just happened to meet her out there a minute ago;" he jerked the tallhat in the direction of the street.
"That must have been rather startling." Dunham had by this timecollected his ideas.
"Oh, no. We've both always lived here; she's kept tab on me ever since;kind of puts the burden of proof on me to show that I can get alongwithout her, if you understand."
"And you've shown her, eh?"
"'M, pretty so-so."
"You've never married, I believe?"
John did not have to assume an interest. This spare little man wassmall only in physique. He was an object of interest to any and everyambitious young lawyer.
"No, never did." Judge Trent shook his head, and rocked his tiltedchair gently. "I might count up the number of kitchen fires I'veescaped building on cold winter mornings; the number of nocturnalrambles I've escaped taking with shrieking infants doubled up with thecolic--and then there are my books! What would have become of my books!My fair one was the pizen-neat kind. She would have dusted them anddriven me to drink!"
Dunham smiled. "And yet those are scarcely facts with which you canreassure her," he remarked.
Judge Trent caught the younger man's eye with a sympathetic twinkle.
"Precisely; and the sad consequence is that she has never been entirelyreassured. Her name's against her, poor girl--Martha. Careful aboutmany things."
"Then you had no successor?"
"No, and affairs piled up. I had too much to attend to to renew theattack. I didn't have time to smooth down her ruffled feathers, so--theresult is that we've each flocked alone. Just as well, just as well,"continued the speaker, musingly. "What I was thinking of just now washow many different lives we seem to live in one; how our tastes change;and at best how few illusions are left to lawyers regarding marriage."
"In other words, you're a confirmed old bachelor. What was it you askedme a minute ago--if I were in love?"
"Yes, or if you had been."
"Have been dozens of times,--am not," returned Dunham, with the smilethat his employer liked.
"Just so, just so," the latter answered quickly. "We change. Read FirstCorinthians, seventh chapter, and if you take Paul's advice and don'tpass the Rubicon, then you 'll be free to change as often as youplease."
Dunham looked up again. "Are you a Bible student, Judge Trent?"
"Student of everything," returned the lawyer, with a short wave of histhin hand.
"All books except woman's looks, eh?" answered Dunham, returning to hispapers.
"I said I had no successors," remarked the judge, regarding his gaitersmusingly. "I'm not at all sure of that. Miss--Martha was a veryattractive woman. My impression is that in any case she preferred toconcentrate all her faculties upon watching to see that I didn't getinto mischief."
"That's faithfulness, I'm sure," returned Dunham. "The necessity forbuilding those kitchen fires wouldn't exist now," he addedsugg
estively.
"Young man, no levity," returned the judge.
There was silence for a few minutes, broken only by the turning of thecrisp papers as Dunham continued his researches. At last the telephonebell rang and Dunham answered it. As he hung up the receiver JudgeTrent spoke:--
"Just call up the railway station, will you, and secure a chair for mein the nine o'clock train for Boston Wednesday morning?"
John obeyed, and as he returned to his desk his employer continued:--
"I may need your advice on Wednesday's business, Dunham."
"My advice?" returned the young man, with interest. "Is it in the Evanscase?"
"No," dryly; "it isn't in the Evans case. It's a case of a girl." Thejudge scowled at his gaiters and pushed his hat askew. "Hang it, Idon't know anything about girls."
The young lawyer waited, his elbows on his desk.
"Anything that I can do, of course," he said at last.
"Have you any sisters?"
"No."
"Confound you," returned the other impatiently. "What do you know aboutit, then?"
"Nearly all there is to know," responded Dunham modestly.
"The conventionalities, the proprieties? Where and how girls may liveand where and how they can't, for instance? Unattached girls whoserelatives don't want them, for I'd like to bet her aunt won't receiveher, and if I should go out of my way to urge it she'd probably turn onme and tell me to take my own medicine."
"I'd do my best," returned John, when the exasperated tones hadsubsided.
"What's the use of obeying St. Paul if your family won't?" went on thelawyer irritably. "What's the good of avoiding girls of your own, onlyto have somebody else's dumped on you?"
"Be calm, Judge," said Dunham, smiling. "I felt a little stage frightwhen I thought it was the Evans case; but if it's only girls, I canattend to them with one hand tied behind me."
Judge Trent regarded him wistfully. "John, do you know what you'resaying? Isn't yours the presumption of ignorance?"
"What? when I told you I had been in love a dozen times? To be sure, Inever met those who've hit me hardest; but cheer up, Judge, I'll standby you. What is it?"
"I'm not quite ready to say what it is. I'll fence with Fate by myselfawhile longer." As he spoke Calvin Trent took from his pocket a letterand began to read it over once more.
"Very well," returned Dunham, picking up his papers. "I'm ready to actas your second."
The following day Miss Martha Lacey locked the door of her cottagebehind her and set off for the business district of the town. Her hairwas carefully arranged and her bonnet was becoming. Her neighbors werewont to say with admiration that Martha Lacey, though she did livealone and was poor in kith, kin, and worldly fortune, never lost herambition. She kept an eye to the styles as carefully as the rosiestbelle in town.
"There isn't any sense in a woman letting herself look queer," MissLacey often declared. "I don't mean to look queer."
"It's real sensible of Martha to do as she does," said one neighbor tothe new minister's wife. "She jilted the smartest man in town when shewas young and she's kept on looking the part, as you might say, eversince. If she'd let herself run down, kind of seedy, everybody'd havesaid she was disappointed; but he hasn't ever married--it's JudgeTrent, you know--and the way Martha holds her head up and wears goldeyeglasses sort of makes folks think he'd be glad to get her any time.It's real smart of Martha. The judge looks the seedy one. He never didcarry much flesh, but now he's dried up till he ain't much bigger'n agrasshopper; but smart--Martha's smartness ain't to speak of besidehis. They do say he's as well known in Boston as he is here."
There was an extra determination in Miss Lacey's walk as she movedalong this morning, the watery spring sunshine beaming on thewell-brushed gray tailor gown she had bought ready-made at a sale ayear ago. She was on her way to the law offices of Calvin Trent, a rareerrand indeed and one which, if observed by acquaintances, she knewwould even now "make talk;" but she did not falter, nor look to theright or left as she at last entered the dingy doorway and ascended theworn staircase.
Scarcely pausing before the black-lettered door, she walked into theanteroom, and apparently her entrance sent a communication to the inneroffice; for while she stood for a moment looking dubiously at theuninviting chairs, a tall young man entered the room. Miss Lacey viewedhim with curiosity and surprise.
He greeted her courteously and brought forward one of the chairs. Shewiped the finger of her gray glove along its edge and examined it.
"I guess you don't have ladies here much," she remarked dryly.
"Oh, is it dusty?" he returned, pulling out his handkerchief with asudden jerk and wiping the broken cane seat.
"Here's another place;" she pointed an accusing gray finger.
Dunham obediently dusted and she lowered her person gingerly upon thechair.
"Now don't you put that dirty thing back in your pocket," she said, andthe young man paused midway in the act, and finally laid thehandkerchief on the gray mantelpiece.
"You don't receive many ladies here, I imagine," repeated Miss Lacey,her nostrils dilating.
"No, very few," returned Dunham, flushed. "What can I do for you,madam?"
"Nothing, I guess, except dust the chair. I'm sure I'm much obliged toyou for that and I'm sorry that you took your nice handkerchief. Youought to have some soft cheesecloth here."
"I'll--mention it," said Dunham. "May I ask your business?"
"No, you may not," returned Miss Martha equably. "Is Judge Trent in?"
The young lawyer collected himself. "I represent Judge Trent," he saidbriefly.
"Not to me you don't, young man," rejoined the visitor coolly.
They regarded each other for a moment.
"I wish to see Judge Trent," said Martha at last.
"He is very busy; but if you will tell me the nature of"--
"Busy? So am I," returned Miss Lacey brusquely, "and if you imaginethat I am going to climb up to this office and then leave it withoutseeing the judge you're mistaken. You might give me something to readif he'll be long."
"Do you think you would care for Blackstone?" asked the young lawyer."There isn't much choice here."
"I shouldn't mind looking at it. I've always known that a little commonsense would revise the law so that a lot of this absurd red tape couldbe cut out."
"Then the world has been waiting for you many years; Mrs.--Mrs."--
"Not at all," returned the visitor; "I'm not Mrs. You go into theoffice, please, and tell Judge Trent that Miss Martha Lacey would liketo see him on important business."
Dunham nodded; but his head had scarcely regained the perpendicularwhen the name began to impress him. "Martha." "Pizen-neat." He bit hislip, and without venturing again to meet Miss Lacey's cool, incisivegaze he turned and vanished into the inner office.