Dr. Reynald smiled. “Yes, you ought to know; and yet I envy you your beautiful faith in human nature which you have kept, in spite of your profession.”
“God knows I have tried to hold on to it,” said the Judge, earnestly. “I would be willing to lie down and die if for a moment I gave up my belief that there is good in every human heart.”
“This is not a heinous case,” said Dr. Reynald. “In fact, it is rather flattering. That storm-tossed lad finds this a quiet haven. He dreads to leave it.”
“But his duplicity,” said the Judge. “I must be severe with him for that. Now, evidently last evening when I told him he must leave he was much shocked. Yet he hid his real feelings.”
“He was thinking out a plan,” said Dr. Reynald. “He is a skillful diplomat. What are you going to do with him?”
“Tell him to get up and take the train for New York,” said the Judge, firmly.
“And let him come back again next week.”
The Judge smiled.
“Come, now,” said Dr. Reynald, “confess that you are slightly pleased—an old fellow like you finding a slip of young life clinging to you.”
The Judge laughed outright. “Ah! doctor, it is my environment that the boy likes. His poor young soul craves comfort.”