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Read Ebook: Don a Runaway Dog: His Many Adventures by Barnum Richard Tooker Harriet H Illustrator
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Ebook has 244 lines and 7824 words, and 5 pages
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 about it, then?"
"Nearly all there is to know," responded Dunham modestly.
"The conventionalities, the proprieties? Where and how girls may live and where and how they can't, for instance? Unattached girls whose relatives don't want them, for I'd like to bet her aunt won't receive her, and if I should go out of my way to urge it she'd probably turn on me and tell me to take my own medicine."
"I'd do my best," returned John, when the exasperated tones had subsided.
"What's the use of obeying St. Paul if your family won't?" went on the lawyer irritably. "What's the good of avoiding girls of your own, only to have somebody else's dumped on you?"
"Be calm, Judge," said Dunham, smiling. "I felt a little stage fright when I thought it was the Evans case; but if it's only girls, I can attend to them with one hand tied behind me."
Judge Trent regarded him wistfully. "John, do you know what you're saying? Isn't yours the presumption of ignorance?"
"What? when I told you I had been in love a dozen times? To be sure, I never met those who've hit me hardest; but cheer up, Judge, I'll stand by you. What is it?"
"I'm not quite ready to say what it is. I'll fence with Fate by myself awhile longer." As he spoke Calvin Trent took from his pocket a letter and began to read it over once more.
"Very well," returned Dunham, picking up his papers. "I'm ready to act as your second."
The following day Miss Martha Lacey locked the door of her cottage behind her and set off for the business district of the town. Her hair was carefully arranged and her bonnet was becoming. Her neighbors were wont to say with admiration that Martha Lacey, though she did live alone and was poor in kith, kin, and worldly fortune, never lost her ambition. She kept an eye to the styles as carefully as the rosiest belle in town.
"There isn't any sense in a woman letting herself look queer," Miss Lacey often declared. "I don't mean to look queer."
"It's real sensible of Martha to do as she does," said one neighbor to the new minister's wife. "She jilted the smartest man in town when she was young and she's kept on looking the part, as you might say, ever since. If she'd let herself run down, kind of seedy, everybody'd have said she was disappointed; but he hasn't ever married--it's Judge Trent, you know--and the way Martha holds her head up and wears gold eyeglasses 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 did carry much flesh, but now he's dried up till he ain't much bigger'n a grasshopper; but smart--Martha's smartness ain't to speak of beside his. 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 moved along this morning, the watery spring sunshine beaming on the well-brushed gray tailor gown she had bought ready-made at a sale a year ago. She was on her way to the law offices of Calvin Trent, a rare errand indeed and one which, if observed by acquaintances, she knew would even now "make talk;" but she did not falter, nor look to the right or left as she at last entered the dingy doorway and ascended the worn staircase.
Scarcely pausing before the black-lettered door, she walked into the anteroom, and apparently her entrance sent a communication to the inner office; for while she stood for a moment looking dubiously at the uninviting chairs, a tall young man entered the room. Miss Lacey viewed him with curiosity and surprise.
He greeted her courteously and brought forward one of the chairs. She wiped 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 a sudden 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 the chair.
"Now don't you put that dirty thing back in your pocket," she said, and the young man paused midway in the act, and finally laid the handkerchief 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 to you for that and I'm sorry that you took your nice handkerchief. You ought 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 said briefly.
"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 imagine that I am going to climb up to this office and then leave it without seeing the judge you're mistaken. You might give me something to read if 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 common sense would revise the law so that a lot of this absurd red tape could be 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 the office, please, and tell Judge Trent that Miss Martha Lacey would like to see him on important business."
Dunham nodded; but his head had scarcely regained the perpendicular when the name began to impress him. "Martha." "Pizen-neat." He bit his lip, and without venturing again to meet Miss Lacey's cool, incisive gaze he turned and vanished into the inner office.
MARTHA LACEY
Judge Trent was sitting at his desk scowling at his work with concentration when his assistant tiptoed to his side, his face sternly repressed and his eyes dancing.
"Miss Martha Lacey wishes to see you, Judge."
The latter looked up with such suddenness as to endanger the situation of the high hat. "Who?" he demanded.
"Sh!" advised Dunham. "Miss Martha Lacey."
Judge Trent placed his hand on his assistant's arm as he stared up at him. "I guess you got the name wrong, Boy," he returned, in a hushed tone.
The young lawyer shook his head solemnly, but his lips refused solemnity. "Miss Martha Lacey," he repeated slowly.
His senior frowned. "These offices are badly planned, Dunham, badly planned. There is no back entrance."
"Exit, do you mean?" asked the other.
"What are you doing in here?" demanded the judge sternly, but careful not to raise his voice. "It was your place to find out her business."
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