The minister rose, and both stepped out to the veranda, and down the
steps to the garden. The judge had alighted, and fastening his bridle
to the gate-post, came up the path to meet them. He was an old man,
with white hair and beard; but his fine figure was as erect and
stately as it had been a quarter of a century before. He shook hands
cordially with the minister, touched Carrie Goldthwaite's brow with
his lips, and then said, in a brisk, cheerful voice,--

"My wife heard you were going to Newhaven for a couple of days, and
sent me down to say she would expect you, miss," (he nodded to
Carrie,) "at the Red House to-morrow, to stay till he comes back. I
may say yes, I suppose?"

"Yes, and thank you, Judge Keane," said Miss Goldthwaite with a
little grateful smile. "Even with Abbie's company, it is very dull
when Frank is away. Won't you come in?"

The judge shook his head, and turned to the gate again. "Not
to-night, my dear. Good-night, and good-bye, Frank."

"Have you no commissions, judge?" asked the minister. "I shall have
plenty of time at my disposal; my own business is very little."

"No, I think not," returned the judge. "But, let me see."

Miss Goldthwaite moved to the gate, and laid her hand caressingly on
Beauty's glossy neck.

"I only envy you one thing, Judge Keane," she said; "and this is it.
What a beauty she is!"