r
Pemberton upon the mark of appreciation conferred upon his
son"--"Elmville rejoices with our honoured citizen, Governor
Pemberton, at his son's success"--"Put her there, Billy!"--"Judge
Billy Pemberton, sir; son of our State's war hero and the people's
pride!"--these were the phrases, printed and oral, conjured up by
Billy's prophetic fancy. Grandson of his State, and stepchild to
Elmville--thus had fate fixed his kinship to the body politic.

Billy lived with his father in the old mansion. The two and an
elderly lady--a distant relative--comprised the family. Perhaps,
though, old Jeff, the Governor's ancient coloured body-servant,
should be included. Without doubt, he could have claimed the honour.
There were other servants, but Thomas Jefferson Pemberton, sah, was
a member of "de fambly."

Jeff was the one Elmvillian who gave to Billy the gold of approval
unmixed with the alloy of paternalism. To him "Mars William" was
the greatest man in Talbot County. Beaten upon though he was by the
shining light that emanates from an ex-war governor, and loyal as he
remained to the old _regime_, his faith and admiration were Billy's.
As valet to a hero, and a member of the family, he may have had
superior opportunities for judging.

Jeff was the first one to whom Bill revealed the news. When he
reached home for supper Jeff took his "plug" hat and smoothed it
before hanging it upon the hall-rack.

"Dar now!" said the old man: "I knowed it was er comin'. I knowed it
was gwine ter happen. Er Judge, you says, Mars William? Dem Yankees
done made you er judge? It's high time, sah, dey was doin' somep'n
to make up for dey rascality endurin' de war. I boun' dey holds a
confab and says: 'Le's make Mars William Pemberton er judge, and
dat'll settle it.' Does you have to go way down to dem Fillypines,
Mars William, or kin you judge 'em from here?"

"I'd have to live there most of the time, of course," said Billy.

"I wonder what de Gubnor gwine say 'bout dat," speculated Jeff.

Billy wondered too.

After supper, when the two sat in the library, according to their
habit, the Governor smoking his clay pipe and Billy his cigar, the
son dutifully confessed to having been tendered the appointment.

For a long time the Governor sat, smoking, without making any
comment. Billy reclined in his favourite rocker, waiting, perhaps
still flushed with satisfaction over the tender that had come to
him, unsolicited, in his dingy little office,