The Judge groaned, and Bodney took a step toward him, with his hands stretched forth as if he would grasp him and shake him into a consciousness of the truth, but the old man looked up and the young man faltered. "I thought you were going to bed, George."
"Then, why do you stand there looking at me?"
"I—I don’t know," he stammered, in his embarrassment.
"Yes, you do know," said the Judge, giving him a straight and steady look. "You know that you are hanging about to plead the cause of your—your friend; but it is of no use. Friend! I would to God he had been my friend. Confess, now; isn’t that the reason you are standing there?"
"You read my mind, Judge," said the wretch.
As Bodney turned toward the door, he met William coming in. The old fellow carried his coat thrown across one arm and was trying to button his shirt collar. It was his custom to begin dressing at his bedside, grabbing up the first garment within reach, and to complete his work in the office, the basement, or even the back yard. "Hold on a minute," he said to Bodney. "Button this infernal collar for me." Bodney halted to obey. "Can’t you take hold of it? Is it as slick as all that? Do you think I wear an eel around my neck? Confound it, don’t choke the life out of me. Get away. I can do it better myself. Didn’t I tell you to quit? Are you a bull-dog, that you have to hang on that way?"
Bodney trod heavily to his room. The old fellow threw his coat on the table and began to walk about, tugging at his collar.
"Do you think you can button it here better than in your own room?" the Judge asked, straightening up and looking at him. "Has this office been set aside as a sort of dressing parade ground for you?"
William was muttering and fuming. "I was Judge Lynch out West, once, and was about to set a horse-thief free, but just then I incidentally heard that he had sold collars and I ordered him hanged. Did you speak to me, John?"
"I knew a Universalist preacher that changed his religion on account of a collar—swore that its inventor must necessarily go to the flames. What was the question you asked me, John?"
"One that would have no more effect on you than a drop of water on the back of a mole."
William buttoned his collar, tied his cravat, took a seat opposite his brother and looked hard at him. "John, I see that your temper hasn’t improved. And you have got up early to turn it loose on me. Now, what have I done? Hah, what have I done?"