crooked arm. He could feel that it was shaking. Once it jerked nervously.
"I couldn't go to any one else," she said; "you see, I am not well."
Although his manner was too grave and collected to be reassuring, the judge conducted his visitor with courtesy to the study and placed her in a deep chair, having first softened its back with a small brown cushion. When she was seated, he stood before the mantel and looked at her interrogatively. The infant stood sturdily by the left arm of his mother's chair. The lady glanced deprecatingly from the infant to the judge, and smiled her big, sweet smile.
"Children have such absurd memories," she said.
The judge understood perfectly, but preferred to say: "Do I understand you to indicate, Harmony, that you wish to speak with me alone?"
"Oh, yes, if you please," said the lady. "Tom, go with Judge Tyler."
The infant advanced upon the judge, or rather from beneath him,—under-
