So, in spite of the gathering clouds and the falling barometer, Captain Sears was cheerful as he smoked beneath the locust tree. After a time he rose and limped down to the gate. Doctor Sheldon's equipage was standing by the Knowles hitching post just beyond across the road. The doctor himself came out of the house and the captain hailed him.
"How is the judge?" he asked. Doctor Sheldon shook his head.
"No better," he replied. "He is weaker every day and last week he had an attack that was so severe I was afraid it was the end. He weathered it, though."
"Why, yes. I saw him on Sunday and he was as full of jokes and spunk as ever, seemed to me. His voice wasn't quite as strong, that's all. He is a great man, Judge Knowles. Bayport will miss him tremendously when he goes. So shall I, for that matter, and I haven't known him very long."
"We'll all miss him."
"There isn't a chance, I suppose? In the long run——"
The doctor's look caused him to stop the sentence in the middle.
"There isn't any question of long runs," said Sheldon, gravely. "The next one of these seizures will end it. He has been a great fighter and he never gives up; that is why he is here. But the fight is practically over. The next attack will be the last."
Sears was deeply concerned. "Dear, dear," he said. "I didn't realize it was quite so bad. And that attack may come—next month, or even next week, I presume likely?"
"Yes."