old negro was muttering, "an' dis yer one's done w'ar out all dose
no 'count flow'rs, des' like de quality done w'ar out de trash. Hi!
Marse Nick, dat you?" he shook the proffered hand, his kindly black face
wrinkling with hospitality. "Marse George hev got de swelled foot," he
said in answer to a question, "an' he ain' tech his julep sence de day
befo' yestiddy. Dis yer's fur you," he added, looking at the bunch in
his hand.

"You're a trump, Caesar!" exclaimed Nicholas as he ascended the steps and
entered the wide hall, through which a light breeze was blowing.

The library door was open and he went in softly, lightening
instinctively his heavy tread. The judge was sitting in his great
arm-chair, his white head resting against the cushioned back, his
bandaged foot on a high footstool.

"Is it you, my boy?" he asked, without turning.

Nicholas crossed the room and gripped the outstretched hand which
trembled slightly in the air, the usual rugged composure of his face
giving place to frank tenderness.

"I'm sorry to see the gout's troubling you again," he said.

The judge laughed and motioned to a chair beside his desk. His fine dark
eyes were as bright as ever, and there was a youthful ring in his voice.

"I'm paying for my pleasures like the rest of us," he responded. "The
truth is, Caesar makes me live too high, the rascal--and I go on a
bread-and-milk diet once in a while to spite him." Then his tone
changed; he pushed aside a slender vase of "safrano" roses which
shadowed Nicholas's face and regarded him with genuine delight. "It's
good news you bring me," he exclaimed. "I haven't had such news since
they told me the Democratic Party had wiped out Mahonism. And it was a
surprise. We thought Dudley Webb was too secure for the chances of the
'dark horse.' Well, well, I'm sorry for Dudley, though I'm glad for you.
How did you do it?"

Nicholas laughed, but his face was grave. "Ben Galt says I worked up a
political 'revival,'" he replied. "He declares my methods were for all
the world the counterpart of those employed in a Methodist camp meeting,
but he's joking, of course. It was a distinct surprise to me, as you
know. I had declined to offer myself as a candidate for the nomination,
because I believed Webb to be assured of victory. However, the
Crutchfield party proved stronger than we supposed, and they came over
to my side. I was the 'dark horse,' as you say."

"It's very good," commented the judge. "Ver