hold of more than I can handle, and I'm tired
and I'm scared, and there's only one of me."

But Mrs. Donovan preferred her own interpretation of the situation, as
most ladies would have. She made it tactfully, keeping her eyes away
from him, busy with the tea-pot. "You're young, and it's June. Neil, the
children walked round with the Sullivan girl to take home the wash to
the Randalls'. They had some talk with Norah there. Judith will be home
this week."

She had mentioned the much-debated name in a voice which she kept
indifferent, but she flashed a quick, apprehensive glance at him. She
was quite unprepared for its effect upon him. He only laughed, and then
his face sobered quickly, and his eyes grew lonely and tired again.

"Judith," he said, "you think that's my trouble, mother. Well, I'm not
so young as I was last June." Then he began with considerable relish to
drink his tea.

"You're contrary and close mouthed, but you're only a boy like all other
boys," said Mrs. Donovan, sticking to her point, "and you're a good son
to me."

The boy who had made this rare and abortive attempt at confidences only
the night before showed no need of repeating it as he gazed out of the
Judge's window. He looked quite competent to bear all his own troubles
alone, and a generous share of other people's, though somewhat saddened
by them. Perhaps his mother's diagnosis of him was correct. He leaned
his chin on his hands and stared out of the window like any dreaming
boy, as if it was. But the winter that had passed so lightly over Green
River had left traces of its own upon him. His profile had a clearer,
more sharply outlined look. The lines at the corners of his mouth were
firmer though they were no deeper, and the mouth was still a boy's
mouth, red-lipped and lightly closed. But the dreaming eyes were a
man's, dreaming still, but alert, and ready to banish dreams.

The afternoon light was fading fast. It was not so easy now to read the
fine print of Mr. Thayer's notes, and the boy made no further pretence
of trying to. He let Mr. Thayer slip to the floor, and stretched himself
in his chair with a sigh of relief. The sounds of talk in the Judge's
room had grown fainter and more intermittent and finally ceased. The
Judge, still deep in conference with them, had left with his guests by
the private door. The boy was alone in the office.

Gradually, as he sat there, the bright pageant of the busy little street
had dimmed. It made