The Judge often looked up at a large painting on his study wall—“Even This Shall Pass Away.”
The words were issuing from the lips of an Oriental king who, seated on a magnificent throne, was receiving the homage of his courtiers. A half-sad, half-indulgent smile played about his face, and on his uplifted hand there could be seen the words deeply cut on a finger ring, “Even This Shall Pass Away.”
The Judge often looked at this picture. How many, many things had passed away in his experience—things that apparently never would pass away! How the time had dragged when Titus lay ill in the hospital! It had seemed as if he would always be ill, as if his grandfather would always be at home, a worried and suffering man. But now only a few weeks had gone by and Titus was at home, and things were going on as they had before his accident.
The boy was going to school again—no fear of fights now. He could stutter as much as he pleased. The boys, half savages as some of them appeared to be, were afraid to touch him.
After breakfast the Judge read his paper, went downtown to the post office, the bank, and his club, then came home.
The princess was always waiting for him, in her basket by the hearth rug if it were raining, or on the balcony if it were fine.
As soon as he appeared in the doorway she flew to meet him, lighted on his shoulder, rubbed her beak gently against his ear, saying “Rookety cahoo!” a great number of times.
When he put her on the hardwood floor she would circle round his feet, and finally retire to her basket, where she sat and watched him.
He had become her prime favorite. She liked Mrs. Blodgett and Higby, and she endured Titus, but she loved the Judge.
On this particular day, or rather evening, she was very much disturbed. The Judge had had his nap in the afternoon, and his drive, and his dinner, and now in the firelight and incandescent light, when the room was snug and cozy, he ought to be reading in his big chair, with herself, the princess, on one arm of it, occasionally getting her head scratched. But instead of following the usual order of things he was muttering to himself something about a vow, and was pacing about the room.