He stiffened up and scowled at me. He resented what I said, I could see. I guess he thought I was trying to be too familiar with him. The old chap’s pride was still on tap. I suppose it seemed like lowering his dignity to make any sort of a man’s compact with young Ross Sidney. However, I was glad to see pride bristle up a bit in him.
“I never heard of a Kingsley being a coward, Judge,” I told him. “Or being a liar, either! You owe me something, sir, and I’ll insist on being paid with your promise. So I reckon I have it.” I did not give him opportunity to do any talking. I rang the bell at the door, though he grabbed at my hand to stop me.
“I can’t go in now! My face—my conscience!” So his conscience was still working!
“Leave it all to me, sir. I’ll fix it.”
The maid opened the door, and I led him into the sitting-room. Celene and her mother were there and they came to their feet, gasping with fright, for I was half carrying the judge.
“It’s nothing—it’s all right!” I told them. “We have been inspecting the work in the wood-lot on the way from the train. It’s nothing, I say—just a little touch of the heart. The judge insisted on walking too much.” I helped him to a couch. “I’ll call in the morning on that business, sir!” I told him. Then I turned to Celene, who was giving me warm welcome with her eyes, now that her fears were subsiding. “Keep your eye on your father during the night,” I advised her. “Of course, it’s nothing serious in his case—only a little overtasking of the heart—but a bit of home nursing will do him good.”
I reckoned I had planted a loyal sentinel over the man who was indebted to me for giving him more days of his life, even though they might be bitter days.
I went to Dodovah Vose’s tavern, feeling still more like an overloaded mule—saddled with plenty of my own troubles, to say nothing of other folks’.