dislike for him.

The Judge would certainly take him over the river, and so home, but
in his frank and ingenuous nature how could he face him on his
almost ignominious return? He stood still, a little away from the
carriage-track, half wishing he might not be seen. He was seen,
however, and a close observer might have discovered the half sneer on
the otherwise handsome and manly face of the Judge, who had taken in
the situation. The horses were held in a walk as they came down near
where the young man stood, with a half ashamed, yet eager, expression
of countenance, and turned partly away, as if he expected--in fact,
wished for nothing.

"What are you doing here?" called out the Judge.

It was not a wholly courteous inquiry, and scarcely necessary, though
not purposely offensive; but the tone and manner struck like an insult
on the young man's sensitive spirit, and his answer went back a little
sharply:

"I am waiting for the river to run by,"

"Ah! I see. Well, I am glad you have found something that suits you."

There was no mistaking the sarcasm of this remark, and perhaps its
sting was deeper than was meant. The Judge was not an unkind man,
though he did not relish the reply to his question; he held up his
horses on the margin of the water, and perhaps he wanted to be asked
by this pert youth for the favor of a passage over. Of course the
petition was not, and never would have been made. He lingered a