"Make it jump," Agnes cried. "Let me hear you laugh as you used to."
"The saints laugh with an old man," said Bradley.
"Don't," the Judge interposed, with a slow gesture. "Your roses are
pretty, but you bring them to a funeral. No, I don't mean that. I mean
that I am simply worried over a little matter, but I am getting better
and will be all right pretty soon. I shall be my old self in a very
short time." Bodney entered, and stood looking fixedly at the Judge.
"What is it, George?"
Bodney nodded to Bradley and Agnes. "I beg your pardon, but I must see
the Judge alone."
Bradley asked Agnes if she would accept of banishment with him. "Yes,"
she said. "Come on."
"It is not necessary," the Judge spoke up. "We can--"
"I beg your pardon," Bodney broke in, "but it is necessary."
"Of course it is," Agnes declared. "As Mr. William would say, we are
not in the plot."
"No," said Bodney, bowing to her.
As they were going out, the Judge called to the preacher. "Don't go
away without seeing me again, Bradley. I want you to spend the day with
me."
Bodney leaned against the table, stepped off, came back, and stood
looking down upon the Judge. The old man glanced up. "Well?"
It was some time before Bodney could speak. His words seemed dry in his
mouth. At last he began: "I carried half of a heavy load. Something
has thrown the other half on me, and I can't stand up under
it--dispatch--railroad wreck--"