"How's your barometer? Or should I call it thermometer?"
"Both, I guess," Foster replied. "I have two."
He meant old wounds, foretellers of weather whims.
"Are we going to have rain, Foster?"
"Don't know—I feel fair weather."
"My instrument may be a little acuter than yours. Mine says rain."
The Judge looked up. "Rain by all means," said he; and then after a time the Captain remarked:
"Doesn't appear that you are going to have much of a vacation, Judge."
"That's a fact, and to one I had been looking forward. I am tired of this everlasting hum-drum, listening to false statements and prying into the criminal weaknesses of other men. The Lord knows that we have weaknesses enough of our own. But I don't see any immediate relief. The criminal docket precludes any adjournment. And I have a civil case under advisement. My son Tom is married. And so is my sister."
"What!" exclaimed the Marshal. "When did all this occur?"