he turned toward his guest.

"Will you join me?" he asked.

"No, sir. Please, I'd rather not," said Hannibal.

"Do you mean that you don't like good liquor?" demanded the
judge. "Not even with sugar and a dash of water?--say, now,
don't you like it that way, my boy?"

"I ain't learned to like it no ways," said Hannibal.

"You amaze me--well--well--the greater the joy to which you may
reasonably aspire. The splendid possibilities of youth are
yours. My tenderest regards, Hannibal!" and he nodded over the
rim of the cracked glass his shaking hand had carried to his
lips. Twice the glass was filled and emptied, and then again,
his roving, watery eyes rested meditatively on the child, who sat
very erect in his chair, with his brown hands crossed in his lap.
"Personally, I can drink or not," explained the judge. "But I
hope I am too much a man of the world to indulge in any
intemperate display of principle." He proved the first clause of
his proposition by again filling and emptying his glass. "Have
you a father?" he asked suddenly. Hannibal shook his head. "A
mother?" demanded the judge.

"They both of them done died years and years ago," answered the
boy. "I can't tell you how long back it was, but I reckon I
don't know much about it. I must have been a small child."