quickness of his perception that he allowed these physical advantages to take their place as valuable assets. 

 "The boy's well born, and well raised," he said to himself. "I suppose he's some kind of a fool, he's too young not to be; but there's no sign of 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 to be accessible in this home of the law. 

 After a few minutes' silence Judge Trent looked up again from his steaming shoes. 

 "Ever been in love, Dunham?" he asked suddenly. 

 The young lawyer raised his eyes, with evident effort to bring his attention from the subject in hand, and regarded the quaint face and figure of his employer. 

 The vagueness of his stare caused the judge to stir and cough with some embarrassment. 

 "Oh, no matter, of course. I just happened to think of it. When I was your age I had it bad: thought if I couldn't have that one girl life wouldn'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 tall hat in the direction of the street. 

 "That must have been rather startling." Dunham had by this time collected 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 along without 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 was small only in physique. He was an object of interest to any and every ambitious young lawyer. 

 "No, never did." Judge Trent shook his head, and rocked his tilted chair gently. "I might count up the number of kitchen fires I've escaped building on cold winter mornings; the number of nocturnal rambles I've escaped taking with shrieking infants doubled up with the colic—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 

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