"You better go, man, before I bring my father to sic our dog on you,"
he exploded, and before I could stop him his thin little legs went
trundling down the garden path toward home.

Then the judge and I both laughed. We couldn't help it. When two people
laugh straight into each other's eyes something feels dangerous and you
get closer together. The judge leaned farther over the fence and I went
a little nearer before I knew it.

"You don't need to keep a personal dog, do you, Mrs. Carter?" he asked,
with a twinkle that might have been a spark in his eyes, and just at
that moment another awful thing happened. Aunt Adeline came out on the
front porch and said in the most frozen tone of voice:

"Mary, I wish to speak to you in the house," and then walked back
through the front door without even looking in Judge Wade's direction,
though he had waved his hat with one of his mother's own smiles when he
had seen her before I did. One of my most impossible habits is, when
there is nothing else to do I laugh. I did it then and it saved the day,
for we both laughed into each others eyes a second time, and before we
realized it we were within whispering distance.

"No, I don't--don't--need any dog," I said softly, hardly glancing out
from under my lashes because I was afraid to risk looking straight at
him again so soon. I could fairly feel Aunt Adeline's eyes boring into
my back.

"It would take the hydra-headed monster of--may I bring my mother to
call on you and the--Mrs. Henderson?" he asked and poured the wonder
smile all over me. Again I almost caught my breath.