"Why, Nick Burr!"
The words were Eugenia's, but the voice was Tom Bassett's. He had come up suddenly with the judge, and as Nicholas turned he caught his hand in a hearty grasp.
"Well, I call this luck!" he cried. "I say, Nick, you haven't grown bald since I saw you. Do you remember the time you shaved every strand of hair off your head so we'd stop calling you 'Carrotty'?"
"I remember you called me 'Baldy,'" said Nicholas, running his hand through his thick, red hair. Then he looked at the judge. "I hope you are well, sir," he added.
The judge bowed with his fine-flavoured courtesy. "As I trust you are," he returned graciously.
"Well, all I've got to say," put in Tom, as his father finished, "is that it's a shame—a confounded shame. What good will Nick's brains do him in old Pollard's store? Old Pollard's a skinflint, anyway, and he cuffed me once when I was a small chap."
Nicholas glanced back uncertainly into the shop.
"Oh, he isn't so bad when you know him," he said. "Most folks aren't."
"He seems to value Nicholas's services," added the judge politely.
Nicholas flushed. "I don't know about that," he returned awkwardly.