Part 1 (2/2)

He was leaning against the faded bricks of the old court-house, one sunburned hand playing nervously with the crumbling particles. His honest little face was as red as his hair.

The judge started.

”Ah!” he exclaimed, and he looked at the child with his kindly eyes. The boy was ugly, lean, and stunted in growth, browned by hot suns and powdered by the dust of country roads, but his eyes caught the gaze of the judge and held it.

Above his head, on the brick wall, a board was nailed, bearing in black marking the name of the white-sand street which stretched like a chalk-drawn line from the gra.s.s-grown battlefields to the pale old buildings of King's College. The street had been called in honour of a duke of Gloucester. It was now ”Main” Street, and nothing more, though it was still wide and white and placidly impressed by the slow pa.s.sage of Kingsborough feet. Beyond the court-house the breeze blew across the green, which was ablaze with b.u.t.tercups. Beneath the warm wind the yellow heads a.s.sumed the effect of a brilliant tangle, spreading over the unploughed common, running astray in the gra.s.s-lined ditch that bordered the walk, hiding beneath dusty-leaved plants in unsuspected hollows, and breaking out again under the horses' hoofs in the sandy street.

”Ah!” exclaimed the judge, and a good-natured laugh ran round the group.

”Wall, I never!” e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed the elder Burr, but there was no surprise in his tone; it expressed rather the helplessness of paternity.

The boy faced them, pressing more firmly against the bricks.

”There ain't nothin' in peanut-raisin',” he said. ”It's jest farmin' fur crows. I'd ruther be a judge.”

The judge laughed and turned from him.

”Stick to the soil, my boy,” he advised. ”Stick to the soil. It is the best thing to do. But if you choose the second best, and I can help you, I will--I will, upon my word--Ah! General,” to a jovial-faced, wide-girthed gentleman in a brown linen coat, ”I'm glad to see you in town. Fine weather!”

He put on his hat, bowed again, and went on his way.

He pa.s.sed slowly along in the spring suns.h.i.+ne, his feet crunching upon the gravel, his straight shadow falling upon the white level between coa.r.s.e fringes of wire-gra.s.s. Far up the town, at the street's sudden end, where it was lost in diverging roads, there was visible, as through a film of bluish smoke, the verdigris-green foliage of King's College.

Nearer at hand the solemn cruciform of the old church was steeped in shade, the high bell-tower dropping a veil of English ivy as it rose against the sky. Through the rusty iron gate of the graveyard the marble slabs glimmered beneath submerging gra.s.ses, long, pale, tremulous like reeds.

The gra.s.s-grown walk beside the low brick wall of the churchyard led on to the judge's own garden, a square enclosure, laid out in straight vegetable rows, marked off by variegated borders of flowering plants--heartsease, foxglove, and the red-lidded eyes of scarlet poppies. Beyond the feathery green of the asparagus bed there was a bush of flowering syringa, another at the beginning of the gra.s.s-trimmed walk, and yet another brus.h.i.+ng the large white pillars of the square front porch--their slender sprays blown from sun to shade like fluttering streamers of cream-coloured ribbons. On the other side there were lilacs, stately and leafy and bare of bloom, save for a few ashen-hued bunches lingering late amid the heavy foliage. At the foot of the garden the wall was hidden in raspberry vines, weighty with ripening fruit.

The judge closed the gate after him and ascended the steps. It was not until he had crossed the wide hall and opened the door of his study that he heard the patter of bare feet, and turned to find that the boy had followed him.

For an instant he regarded the child blankly; then his hospitality a.s.serted itself, and he waved him courteously into the room.

”Walk in, walk in, and take a seat. I am at your service.”

He crossed to one of the tall windows, unfastening the heavy inside shutters, from which the white paint was fast peeling away. As they fell back a breeze filled the room, and the ivory faces of microphylla roses stared across the deep window-seat. The place was airy as a summer-house and odorous with the essence of roses distilled in the suns.h.i.+ne beyond.

On the high plastered walls, above the book-shelves, rows of bygone Ba.s.setts looked down on their departed possessions--stately and severe in the artificial severity of periwigs and starched ruffles. They looked down with immobile eyes and the placid monotony of past fas.h.i.+ons, smiling always the same smile, staring always at the same spot of floor or furniture.

Below them the room was still hallowed by their touch. They a.s.serted themselves in the quaint curves of the rosewood chairs, in the blue patterns upon the willow bowls, and in the choice lavender of the old Wedgwood. Their handiwork was visible in the laborious embroideries of the fire-screen near the empty grate, and the spinet in one unlighted corner still guarded their gay and amiable airs.

”Sit down,” said the judge. ”I am at your service.”

He seated himself before his desk of hand-carved mahogany, pus.h.i.+ng aside the papers that littered its baize-covered lid. In the half-gloom of the high-ceiled room his face a.s.sumed the look of a portrait in oils, and he seemed to have descended from his allotted square upon the plastered wall, to be but a boldly limned composite likeness of his race, awaiting the last touches and the gilded frame.

”What can I do for you?” he asked again, his tone preserving its unfailing courtesy. He had not made an uncivil remark since the close of the war--a line of conduct resulting less from what he felt to be due to others than from what he believed to be becoming in himself.

The boy s.h.i.+fted on his bare feet. In the old-timed setting of the furniture he was an alien--an anachronism--the intrusion of the hopelessly modern into the helplessly past. His hair made a rich spot in the colourless atmosphere, and it seemed to focus the incoming light from the unshuttered window, leaving the background in denser shadow.

The animation of his features jarred the serenity of the room. His profile showed gnome-like against the nodding heads of the microphylla roses.

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