"I repeated only the common—"
"Wait, please," interrupted Dan. "This is a matter between you and me. I understand that you were angry and spoke hastily. Won't you please retract those words now?" Dan's voice was almost pleading in its sad slowness; his eyes were on the Judge with an anxious, appealing look. Disappointed at the request so different from that which he had expected, the Judge angrily answered, "Stand out of my way; I have no time for this, sir!"
But quietly, carelessly it seemed, Dan laid one hand on the back of the nearest horse, almost touching the rein, and moved a step or two closer to the buggy.
"Sir, I am sure you do not understand. Miss Farwell and I—I had hoped to make her my wife. We—we parted because of the church."
The Doctor on the fence felt a lump in his throat at the pain in the boy's voice. Dan continued, "I am telling you, sir, so that you will understand. Surely you cannot refuse to take back your words under the circumstances."
"Oh, I see," sneered the Judge. "You lost the girl because of the church and then you lost the church! A fine mess you made of your pious interference with other people's business, didn't you?" And then he laughed. Looking straight into those sad, pleading eyes—he laughed.
"The damned fool," muttered the old Doctor on the fence.
"Am I to understand that you refuse to retract your words after my explanation?" Dan's tone was mildly doubtful.
The Judge was well pleased at what he had heard.
"I have absolutely nothing to take back, sir." He laughed again. "Now if that is all, stand aside!"