"
She paced slowly backward and forward yet a little while. Then she
started resolutely in the direction of a street where most of the
law offices were situated. Turning a corner, she came full upon
Judge, Morris.
"Ah, good morning, good morning," he cried, putting his gold-headed
cane under his arm and holding out both hands. "Where did you
sleep last night? On rose leaves?"
"I was in grandmother's bed when I left off," said Marguerite,
looking up at the rim of her hat.
"And where were you when you began again?"
"Still in grandmother's bed. I think I must have been there all
the time. I know all about your old Blackstone and all that kind
of thing," she continued, glancing at a yellow book under his arm
and speaking with a threat as though he had adjudged her ignorant.
"Ah, then you will make a good lawyer's wife."
"I supposed I'd make a good wife of any kind. Are you coming to my
ball?"
"Well, you know I am too old to make engagements far ahead. But I
expect to be there. If I am not, my ghost shall attend."
"How shall I recognize it? Does it dance? I don't want to mistake
it for Barbee."
"Barbee shall not come if I can keep him at home."
"And why, please?"
"I am afraid he is falling in love with you."
"But why shouldn't he?"
"I don't wish my nephew to be flirted."
"But how do you know I'd flirt him?"
"Ah, I knew your mother when she was young and your grandmother
when she was young: you're all alike.
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