d
absurdly out of place, coming from his round frame, "you and me have
lived neighbors together a good while, haven't we? We've been right
acros't the street from one another all this time. It kind of jolts me
sometimes when I git to thinkin' how many years it's really been;
because we're gittin' along right smartly in years--all us old fellows
are. Ten years from now, say, there won't be so many of us left." He
glanced sidewise at the lean, firm profile of his friend. "You're
younger than some of us; but, even so, you ain't exactly what I'd call a
young man yourself."

Avoiding the direct, questioning gaze that his companion turned on him
at this, the judge reached forward and touched a ripe balsam apple that
dangled in front of him. Instantly it split, showing the gummed red
seeds clinging to the inner walls of the sensitive pod.

"I'm listening to you, judge," said the deaf man.

For a moment the old judge waited. There was about him almost an air of
embarrassment. Still considering the ruin of the balsam apple, he spoke,
and it was with a sort of hurried anxiety, as though he feared he might
be checked before he could say what he had to say.

"Ed," he said, "I was settin' on my porch a while ago waitin' for
breakfast, and your brother came by." He shot a quick, apprehensive
glance at his silent auditor. Except for a tautened flickering of the
muscles about the mouth, there was no sign that the other had heard him.
"Your brother Abner came by," repeated the judge, "and I set over there
on my porch and watched him pass. Ed, Abner's gittin' mighty feeble! He
jest about kin drag himself along--he's had another stroke lately, they
tell me. He had to hold on to that there treebox down yonder, steadyin'
himself after he crossed back over to this side. Lord knows what he was
doin' draggin' down-town on a Sunday mornin'--force of habit, I reckin.
Anyway he certainly did look older and more poorly than ever I saw him
before. He's a failin' man if I'm any judge. Do you hear me plain?" he
asked.

"I hear you," said his neighbor in a curiously flat voice. It was
Tilghman's turn to avoid the glances of his friend. He stared straight
ahead of him through a rift in the vines.

"Well, then," went on Judge Priest, "here's what I've got to say to you,
Ed Tilghman. You know as well as I do that I've never pried into your
private affairs, and it goes mightily against the grain for me to be
doin' so now; but, Ed, when I think of h