Something about the manner of David's speech stilled the impatient little company. David was always much looked up to and somewhat feared; and now he had spoken with a clear and sweet business tone which left no hold for ridicule. Nobody attempted it; and Judy saw her time was not then and kept silence. So did the Judge; too long, some of them thought.
"I suppose Matilda and you are in the same box," he began, "and what I give to one of you I must give to the other."
"No, no, you mustn't!" was cried in a stream of little voices. "They didn't say the same thing at all; you must judge by what they said."
"They both meant the same thing, I know," said Norton; "but if I must go by what they said, then David spoke more clearly than Matilda. Bartholomew has it."
"Reasons! reasons!" cried Judy and one or two more; for it was usual for the Judge to fortify himself thus in the opinions of his little assembly.
"Well," said Norton, without his usual readiness, "the reasons are plain enough. The best business is what yields the best interest; and you may judge yourselves, if working for other people isn't nobler than working for oneself. And as to the interest,—well, you know,—if you come to look at it," Norton went on not very lucidly—"that's better than this."
"What's better than which?" said Judy.
"Come, Judy," said her brother; "what will last, is better than what won't last; and all your diamonds cannot compare with 'shining as the stars for ever and ever;' and the King's court will be better than any little king's or queen's rule in this world."
There was a general cry now for the forfeits. It fell to David by right to dispense them. I have not time to tell how witty and how pleasant they were; but only that they brought every one into good humour long before the game was out.
The little party slept at the house, and returned to town by an early train next morning.