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LONESOME HILL
"Glad to see you—had your supper?"
Hearing voices in the dining-room, he answered in the affirmative.
"Then have a cigar and wait in the library; the folks are having a little company."
The old man surveyed the room; the books alone were worth more than his earthly possessions. From a desk loomed a bust of Webster. Shadows seemed to leap from it; the sombre lips bespoke the futility of striving against stern realities.
There was gayety in the dining-room; Judge Long was a fountain of mirth, a favorite at taverns, while riding the circuit—before juries—wherever people gathered.
A gale of laughter greeted his last
[11]
