“Ah, yes, I see.”  The Judge spoke to himself, as if light had broken into his mind.  “Well, Henry,” he added, looking at the young man, “what do you propose doing?”

“I have hands and health,” was the reply.

“Something more than hands and health are required in this world.  What can you do?”

“I can work on a farm, if nothing better offers.  Or, may be, I can get a place in some store.”

“There’s good stuff in the lad,” said Judge Bigelow to himself.  Then speaking aloud—­

“I’ll think this matter over for you, Henry.  Let it rest for a day or two.  The law is your proper calling, and you must not give it up, if you can be sustained in it.”

On that very day, Judge Bigelow saw Squire Floyd, and talked the matter over with him.  They had but one sentiment in the matter, and that was favorable to Henry’s remaining where he was.

“Can he be of any service to you, in your office, Judge—­such as copying deeds and papers, hunting up cases, and the like?” asked the Squire.

“Yes, he can be of service to me in that way; and is of service now.”

“You can afford to pay him something?” suggested Squire Floyd.

“It is usual,” replied the Judge, “to get this kind of service in return for instruction and office privileges.”

“I know; but this case is peculiar.  The death of Henry’s father has left him without a support, and he is too independent to burden his mother.  Unless he can earn something, therefore, he must abandon the law.”

“I understand that, Squire, and have already decided to compensate him,” said the Judge.  “But what I can offer will not be enough.”

“How much can you offer?”

“Not over a hundred dollars for the first year.”

“Call it two hundred, Judge,” was the ready answer.

The two men looked for a moment into each other’s faces.

“His father and I were friends from boyhood,” said Squire Floyd.  “He was a warm-hearted man; but always making mistakes.  He would have ruined me two or three times over, if I had been weak enough to enter into his plans, or to yield to his importunities in the way of risks and securities.  It often went hard for me to refuse him; but duty to those dependent on me was stronger than friendship.  But I can spare a hundred dollars for his son, and will do it cheerfully.  Only, I must not be known in the matter; for it would lay on Henry’s mind a weight of obligation, not pleasant for one of his sensitive disposition to bear.”

“I see, Squire,” answered Judge Bigelow to this; “but then it won’t place me in the right position.  I shall receive credit for your benevolence.”

“Don’t trouble yourself on that score,” answered the Squire, laughing.  “It may be that I shall want some law business done—­though heaven forbid!  In that case, I will call on you, and you can let Henry do the work.  Thus the equilibrium of benefits will be restored.  Let the salary be two hundred.”