“What!” cried the Judge, “so far from Boston?”

Stephen hesitated, uncertain whether to laugh, until he chanced to look at Virginia.  She had pursed her lips.

“I was very much surprised, sir,” he said.

“Humph!” grunted Mr. Whipple, “and what did you chink of that ruffian, Lincoln?”

“He is the most remarkable man that I have ever met, sir,” answered Stephen, with emphasis.

“Humph!”

It seemed as if the grunt this time had in it something of approval.  Stephen had doubt as to the propriety of discussing Mr. Lincoln there, and he reddened.  Virginia’s expression bore a trace of defiance, and Mr. Carvel stood with his feet apart, thoughtfully stroking his goatee.  But Mr. Whipple seemed to have no scruples.

“So you admired Lincoln, Mr. Brice?” he went on.  “You must agree with that laudatory estimation of him which I read in the Missouri Democrat.”

Stephen fidgeted.

“I do, sir, most decidedly,” he answered.

“I should hardly expect a conservative Bostonian, of the class which respects property, to have said that.  It might possibly be a good thing if more from your town could hear those debates.”

“They will read them, sir; I feel confident of it.”

At this point the Colonel could contain himself no longer.

“I reckon I might tell the man who wrote that Democrat article a few things, if I could find out who he is,” said he.

“Pa!” said Virginia, warningly.

But Stephen had turned a fiery red, “I wrote it, Colonel Carvel,” he said.

For a dubious instant of silence Colonel Carvel stared.  Then—­then he slapped his knees, broke into a storm of laughter, and went out of the room.  He left Stephen in a moist state of discomfiture.

The Judge had bolted upright from the pillows.

“You have been neglecting your law, sir,” he cried.

“I wrote the article at night,” said Stephen, indignantly.

“Then it must have been Sunday night, Mr. Brice.”

At this point Virginia hid her face in her handkerchief which trembled visibly.  Being a woman, whose ways are unaccountable, the older man took no notice of her.  But being a young woman, and a pretty one, Stephen was angry.

“I don’t see what right you have to ask me that sir,” he said.

“The question is withdrawn, Mr. Brice,” said the Judge, “Virginia, you may strike it from the records.  And now, sir, tell me something about your trip.”

Virginia departed.

An hour later Stephen descended to the veranda, and it was with apprehension that he discerned Mr. Carvel seated under the vines at the far end.  Virginia was perched on the railing.

To Stephen’s surprise the Colonel rose, and, coming toward him, laid a kindly hand on his shoulder.

“Stephen,” said he, “there will be no law until Monday you must stay with us until then.  A little rest will do you good.”