out of my office window, and there was Deacon Whittle--and the girl,
just coming up th' steps. In five minutes more I'd have been gone,
most likely for the day."

"Gosh!" breathed the excitable young farmer.

The middle-aged man sternly motioned him to keep silence.

"I s'pose most of you boys saw her at the fair last night," proceeded
the Judge, ignoring the interruption. "She's a nice appearing young
female; but nobody'd think to look at her--"

He paused to ram down the tobacco in the glowing bowl of his pipe.

"Well, as I was saying, she'd been over to the Bolton house with the
Deacon. Guess we'll have to set the Deacon down for a right smart
real-estate boomer. We didn't none of us give him credit for it. He'd
got the girl all worked up to th' point of bein' afraid another
party'd be right along to buy the place. She wanted an option on it."

"Shucks!" again interrupted the young farmer disgustedly. "Them
options ain't no good. I had one once on five acres of timber, and--"

"Shut up, Lute!" came in low chorus from the spell-bound audience.

"Wanted an option," repeated Judge Fulsom loudly, "just till I could
fix up the paper. 'And, if you please,' said she, 'I'd like t' pay
five thousand dollars for the option, then I'd feel more sure.' And
before I had a chance to open my mouth, she whips out a check-book."