Mr. Porter turned to me. "You see, Miss Middleton, you are the
supreme court, after all," his lips said. But his eyes told me why
he wanted to go on the same train with Dad and me, told me plainer
than words. Perhaps I should have remembered I had never spoken to
him till that morning, but . . .

"The supreme court congratulates the inferior court on the wisdom of
its decision," I said, with an elaborate bow to Dad to hide my
confusion.

"It's settled!" cried Dad. "This is quite the nicest thing that ever
happened," said Mr. Porter. "If only you knew how grateful I am. I
feel like--like giving three cheers, and tossing my hat in the air."

"The inferior court rules against hat-tossing as irrelevant,
immaterial, and incompetent."

"Ruling sustained," I said.

"And they call this a free country!"

"The newspapers don't. Read the newspapers my boy."

"At any rate, I now belong to the privileged class. When do we
leave, Mr. Middleton?"

"Elizabeth says to-morrow. We go by rather a slow train."

"But why?" I began.