He was walking now, and limping sadly on the foot where the loose shoe hung by its bent and broken nails.
Five miles, six, seven, and the limp was worse than ever.

Seth, whose conscience smote him, got out of the carriage into the rain and mud and attempted repairs, using a stone as a hammer.

This seemed to help matters some, but it was almost dark when the granite block marking the township line was passed, and the windows in the houses were alight when he pulled up at the judge's door.
The judge himself answered the knock, or series of knocks.

He seemed much surprised to find the keeper of Eastboro Twin-Lights standing on his front step.
"Why, hello, Atkins!" he cried.

"What in the world are you doing over here?
a night like this!" "Has--has Mrs.Bascom been here?
Is she here now ?" panted Seth anxiously.
"Mrs.Bascom?
Who is Mrs.Bascom ?" "She--she's a friend of mine.