His grandson
is back of that curtain now--asleep--in my bed!" Mahaffy put
down his glass.
"You were like this once before," he said darkly. But at that
instant the shuck tick rattled noisily at some movement of the
sleeping boy. Mahaffy quitted his chair, and crossing the room,
drew the quilt aside. A glance sufficed to assure him that in
part, at least, the judge spoke the truth. He let the curtain
fall into place and resumed his chair.
"He's an orphan, Solomon; a poor, friendless orphan. Another
might have turned him away from his door--I didn't; I hadn't the
heart to. I bespeak your sympathy for him."
"Who is he?" asked Mahaffy.
"Haven't I just told you?" said the judge reproachfully. Mahaffy
laughed.
"You've told me something. Who is he?"
"His name is Hannibal Wayne Hazard. Wait until he wakes up and
see if it isn't."
"Sure he isn't kin to you?" said Mahaffy.
"Not a drop of my blood flows in the veins of any living
creature," declared the judge with melancholy impressiveness. He
continued with deepening feeling, "All I shall leave to posterity
is my fame."
"Speaking of posterity, which isn't present, Mr. Price, I'll say
it is embarrassed by the attention," observed Mahaffy.
There was a long silence between them. Mr. Mahaffy drank, and
when he did not drink he bit his under lip and studied the judge.
This was always distressing to the latter gentleman. Mahaffy's
silence he could never penetrate.
Pages:
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123