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Judge Gatchell's nephews and nieces, brought by that punctilious gentleman to call upon Miss Alicia Gaines, found her enchanting and cried it to the circumambient air. It was as if the voice of April had summoned the cohorts of Spring. For fresh-faced boys of a sudden appeared in increasing numbers; and flower-faced girls came fluttering into Hynds House like butterflies.
"I learned some time ago that things were not altogether right over yonder, but I hadn't the ghost of an idea that my entire estate was involved; that while I'd been 'tramping' I'll use Judge Gatchell's word the men in whose hands I placed too much power had taken advantage of it. A very common, every-day story, you see. "Remains the fact that I'm stripped to the bone. The estate's wiped out.
"I shall have to consult Judge Gatchell." "Gatchell's a fossilized remains. He's got no more blood in his liver than a flea. Gatchell would hang his grandmother on a point of law. Why should you, or any other ordinarily intelligent person, be guided by Gatchell?" "By whom, then, shall I be guided? You?" I wondered.
Jelnik, "hadn't you better let me help you set him up?" When the fine weather had taken the kinks out of Judge Gatchell's joints, he came to see us a tall, thin, punctilious, saturnine old gentleman with frosty Scotch eyes and the complexion of a pair of washed khaki trousers.
"Miss Smith," began The Author abruptly, "did you know this house was built by British and French master masons? No? Well, it was. Judge Gatchell's father, grandfather, and great-grandfather were solicitors for this estate, and the judge at last very kindly allowed me to look through a great batch of papers in his possession.
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