Five young voices gave an answer to the chilly morning wind sweeping by, “The Jedge.”
“Who’s been a good shepherd to Sister Airy?”
Again the shrill voices answered, “The Jedge!”
“Who’s guv, or almost guv, us a lovely green house out in the country, which our eyes have all seen this blessed mornin’—guv to the Tingsbys?”
“The Jedge!” shouted the children, excitedly.
“An’ now who’s goin’ to love the Jedge, an’ work for the Jedge, an’ praise the Jedge, an’ copy the Jedge?”
“We be!” they yelled, excitedly.
“I am quite satisfied with this exhibition of gratitude,” said the Judge, trying to speak very distinctly, “quite satisfied.”
Mrs. Tingsby beamed on him. “Sir, your humble servant. If ever I hears anyone say a word agin you I’ll tear out his hair, an’ scratch out his eyes, an’—”
The Judge waved his hand at her. There was no use in speaking, for she did not understand a word he said. However, she would know what that prohibitory gesture meant. Ordinarily, she was a sensible woman. Just now she seemed to be in a strange state of exaltation, brought on, no doubt, by the prospect of being able to take her progeny to the country. In short, she was getting silly, and would better go home.