This was the stereotyped form of the daily greeting between the two.
Judge Bradley turned as usual to his desk, but, catching sight of the
letter still held in Franklin's hand, remarked carelessly:

"Got a letter from your girl?"

"Not so lucky," said Franklin. "From a friend."

Silence resulted. Judge Bradley opened his desk, took off his coat and
hung it on a nail, after his custom, thereafter seating himself at his
desk, with the official cough which signified that the campaign of the
day had begun. He turned over the papers for a moment, and remarked
absent-mindedly, and more to be polite than because the matter
interested him, "Friend, eh?"

"Yes," said Franklin, "friend, out West"; and both relapsed again into
silence. Franklin once more fell to gazing out of the window, but at
length turned toward the desk and pulled over his chair to a closer
speaking distance.

"Judge Bradley," said he, "I shouldn't wonder if I could pass my
examination for the bar."

"Well, now," said the Judge, "I hope you can. That's nice. Goin' to
hang out your own shingle, eh?"

"I might, if I got my license."

"Oh, that's easy," replied the other; "it's mostly a matter of form.