his boot. "I'll go with you, Doctor."

* * * * *

"I called at the office, but it was locked, and so I'm here," apologized
Dale as Judge Long opened the door of his old-fashioned stone house in
Point Elizabeth, the county seat.

"Glad to see you--had your supper?"

Hearing voices in the dining-room, he answered in the affirmative.

"Then have a cigar and wait in the library; the folks are having a
little company."

The old man surveyed the room; the books alone were worth more than
his earthly possessions. From a desk loomed a bust of Webster. Shadows
seemed to leap from it; the sombre lips bespoke the futility of striving
against stern realities.

There was gayety in the dining-room; Judge Long was a fountain of
mirth, a favorite at taverns, while riding the circuit--before
juries--wherever people gathered.

A gale of laughter greeted his last anecdote and the diners protested as
he arose.

Dale told his story excitedly, and at the conclusion Judge Long slowly
brushed away the tobacco smoke.