“A fowl in the pot for every man on Sunday,” a good French king is reported to have said, and “Cloverdale butter for every citizen in Riverport,” the good Judge wished in his heart.
He had a lonely drive. How much he enjoyed having the little prattler by his side! for Bethany talked a good deal when she was out with him. There were so many objects of interest to inquire about, and having perfect confidence in him she never failed to extend her fund of knowledge when with him. Poor little gropers after truth! How much the children had to learn! How many questions they must ask of the, to them, omniscient grown-up ones, before they were sufficiently equipped for the battle of life!
On the second day of Bethany’s punishment the Judge, as he was going down to the sleigh, met Dallas on the front steps.
“It is a beautiful day,” he said; “don’t you want to come for a drive?”
A flush of pleasure crept over the boy’s face.
“Yes, sir, very much; will you be good enough to wait till I put these books in the house?”
The Judge nodded, and Dallas ran into the house.
“How is it that you carry books?” inquired the Judge when he came out. “I never see Titus with any.”
“He has a set at home and one in school,” said Dallas, quietly, as they got into the sleigh.
“And why have not you the same?”