“But there’s different kinds of pretense,” said Titus, still with animation and still pursuing his grandfather, who, occasionally looking over his shoulder, was stepping cautiously round the room. “I saw the fellow was going to stay here. I wasn’t going to block him. I can keep out of his way.”
“Then you are not prepared to receive him as a brother?”
“Brother—nonsense,” said Titus, disrespectfully. “I tell you, grandfather, it’s easier to father a boy than to brother him.”
“He is going to be honest now,” said the Judge.
“Moonshine!” exclaimed Titus, angrily stamping his foot. “He’s a born actor, like his father.”
“Titus,” said the Judge, mildly, from a corner where he had taken refuge, “I never saw you do that before. You have been a respectful—”
“Well, I don’t feel respectful now,” said the boy, furiously. “How can I respect you when I see every Tom, Dick, and Harry pulling the wool over your eyes?”
“Our interview is at an end,” said the Judge, “and if you will step back a little I will move toward the door. I am sure that upon thinking this matter over you will see an apology is due to me.”
Titus sulkily dragged himself from the room. With a sinking of the heart the Judge noticed that his limp was more perceptible than usual.
“Grandson,” he called after him.