I swallowed pretty hard and looked down.
"I promised," continued the judge gloomily. "And I'll do it—oh, yes, anything to humor him! He's to put them outside his door to-night—it's his own whim, you know." He went on moodily: "He won't allow any luncheon sent up; says if not too much trouble, would be grateful for two and one-half ounces of unleavened bread and clabber—what the devil's clabber?"
I had never heard of it—knew, of course, no one had!
"Well," he said with a deep breath, "we'll just have to do the best we can. Of course, under the circumstances, it's best for him to keep his apartment—Oh, say, would you like to go up?"
"Oh—er—think not!" I stammered. "Don't believe I—"
"You're right! You're right!" He pursed his lips: "Too pitiful a sight—only sadden you!" He began gathering up the papers behind my arm, though I murmured that they were not in my way at all. The cathedral chimes in the hall had played the half hour. The judge strolled over to the French windows that opened upon the loggia.
"I say, Lightnut, have you ever noticed the view from out here?" he asked briskly. "Fine, you know! Nice to sit here and watch the boats—have you your cigarettes? Oh, yes! Try this chair! Now, if you'll excuse me I'll be with you in—"
"Luncheon is served!" intoned a human machine.
"Ah-h!" The judge's tone evinced satisfaction. "My dear Lightnut," his hand upon my arm, "do you know I look upon you as so nearly one of us—?"
"Thank you, judge!" I said feelingly. By Jove, it was devilish comfy to have her father so jolly friendly about it!