ow old we're all gittin' to be,
and when the Camp meets and I see you settin' there side by side almost,
and yet never seemin' to see each other--and this mornin' when I saw
Abner pass, lookin' so gaunt and sick--and it sech a sweet, ca'm mornin'
too, and everything so quiet and peaceful----" He broke off and started
anew. "I don't seem to know exactly how to put my thoughts into
words--and puttin' things into words is supposed to be my trade too.
Anyway I couldn't go to Abner. He's not my neighbor and you are; and
besides, you're the youngest of the two. So--so I came over here to you.
Ed, I'd like mightily to take some word from you to your brother Abner.
I'd like to do it the best in the world! Can't I go to him with a
message from you--today? Tomorrow might be too late!"

He laid one of his pudgy hands on the bony knee of the deaf man; but the
hand slipped away as Tilghman stood up.

"Judge Priest," said Tilghman, looking down at him, "I've listened to
what you've had to say; and I didn't stop you, because you are my friend
and I know you mean well by it. Besides, you're my guest, under my own
roof." He stumped back and forth in the narrow confines of the porch.
Otherwise he gave no sign of any emotion that might be astir within him,
his face being still set and his voice flat. "What's between me and
my--what's between me and that man you just named always will be between
us. He's satisfied to let things go on as they are. I'm satisfied to let
them go on. It's in our breed, I guess. Words--just words--wouldn't help
mend this thing. The reason for it would be there just the same, and
neither one of us is going to be able to forget that so long as we both
live. I'd just as soon you never brought this--this subject up again. If
you went to him I presume he'd tell you the same thing. Let it be, Judge
Priest--it's past mending. We two have gone on this way for fifty years
nearly. We'll keep on going on so. I appreciate your kindness, Judge
Priest; but let it be--let it be!"

There was finality miles deep and fixed as basalt in his tone. He
checked his walk and called in at a shuttered window.

"Liddie," he said in his natural up-and-down voice, "before you put off
for church, couldn't you mix up a couple of lemonades or something?
Judge Priest is out here on the porch with me."

"No," said Judge Priest, getting slowly up, "I've got to be gittin' back
before the sun's up too high. If I don't see you again meanwhile be