Stephen did not reply. But he was astonished. He wondered what Mr. Whipple wanted with fine furniture. And, if he really wished to bid, Stephen knew likewise that no consideration would stop him.
“You don't approve of this proceeding, sir, I suppose,” said the Judge.
“Yes, sir, on large grounds. War makes many harsh things necessary.”
“Then,” said the Judge, tartly, “by bidding, we help to support starving Union families. You should not be afraid to bid, sir.”
Stephen bit his lip. Sometimes Mr. Whipple made him very angry.
“I am not afraid to bid, Judge Whipple.” He did not see the smile on the Judge's face.
“Then you will bid in certain things for me,” said Mr. Whipple. Here he hesitated, and shook free the rest of the sentence with a wrench. “Colonel Carvel always had a lot of stuff I wanted. Now I've got the chance to buy it cheap.”
There was silence again, for the space of a whole block. Finally, Stephen managed to say:— “You'll have to excuse me, sir. I do not care to do that.”
“What?” cried the Judge, stopping in the middle of a cross-street, so that a wagon nearly ran over his toes.
“I was once a guest in Colonel Carvel's house, sir. And—”