"How do you do, Doctor?" called the man in the buggy in a loud voice; then to Dan, "Well, sir, what do you want now?"
Dan stood near the horses' heads, his eyes fixed on their driver, and the
Judge, seeing the sorrow in his face, misunderstood, as always.
"Judge Strong," said Dan. "You are the only man in the world with whom I am not at peace. I cannot be content to leave Corinth, sir, with anything between us."
The crafty Judge thought he understood. He took Dan's words, with his manner, as an acknowledgment of defeat; an act of submission. The Elder had not believed that the young man had really wished to leave the ministry. He was quite sure now that the preacher, recognizing at last the power that had thrust him from his position and place in the church, wished to sue for peace, that the same power might help him to another position. So this big upstart was tamed at last, was he?
The Doctor, sitting on the fence and hearing every low-spoken word, held a different view of the situation.
"Well," said the Judge haughtily.
Dan hesitated. "I—I wished to ask a favor, sir; one that I feel sure a
Christian could not refuse."
Now the Judge was confident of his position and power. He grew still more dignified and looked at Dan with the eye of a master.
"Well, out with it. It is growing late and I must be going."
"You will remember, sir, that the last time I called on you in your home, you made certain grave charges against three women who are my friends."