His heart beat in a strangely irregular manner as he neared Madame Celestin's house one morning, and discovered her behind the rosebushes, as usual plying her broom. She had finished the gallery and steps and was sweeping the little brick walk along the edge of the violet border.

"Good-morning, Madame Celestin."

"Ah, it's you, Judge. Good-morning." He waited. She seemed to be doing the same. Then she ventured, with some hesitancy, "You know, Judge, about that divo'ce. I been thinking- I reckon you betta neva mine about that divo'ce." She was making keep rings in the palm of her gloved hand with the end of the broom-handle, and looking at them critically. Her face seemed to the lawyer to be unusually rosy; but maybe it was only the reflection of the pink bow at the throat. "Yes, I reckon you need n' mine. You see, Judge, Celestin came home las' night. An' he's promise me on his word an' honor he's going to turn ova a new leaf."