“Get back into bed,” said the Judge, softly. “You are tired and worn out from mental stress and worry. Your meals will be served here to-day. To-morrow, if you feel like it, come downstairs and take your place among us. Only one thing I ask of you—be honest with me, Dallas. Will you, my boy?”
The lad turned and threw himself full length on the bed. His whole frame was shaking, and he could not utter a word.
The Judge did not insist, for he was a wise man. Softly closing the door, and gently shaking his head, he went slowly downstairs.
CHAPTER XII
The Yellow Spotted Dog
“I wonder what Titus will say?” muttered the Judge to himself. “I wonder what Titus will say? Perhaps I should have waited to ask him.”
“Titus,” he said, when his grandson returned home from school, “what do you think of the English boy?”
Titus grinned, then he said, “How is he?”
“Did you think he was very ill?” inquired the Judge.
“You’re going to keep him,” said Titus, bluntly. “I knew you would. I knew he would get round you.”
“Do you like him?” asked the Judge, anxiously.