During the period that intervened between his escape and the announcement of the restoration of civil government in Georgia, Gabriel settled down to a course of reading in the law office of Judge Vardeman, Colonel Tom's brother. He did this on the advice of those who were old enough to know that idleness does not agree with a healthy youngster, especially in a large city. His experience in Judge Vardeman's office decided his career. He was fascinated from the very beginning. He found the dullest law-book interesting; and he became so absorbed in his reading that the genial Judge was obliged to warn him that too much study was sometimes as bad as none. Yet the lad's appetite grew by what it fed on. A new field had been opened up to him, and he entered it with delight. Here was what he had been longing for, and there were moments when he felt sure that he had heard delivered from the bench, or had dreamed, the grave and sober maxims and precepts that confronted him on the printed page. He pursued his studies in a state of exaltation that caused the days to fly by unnoted. He thought of home, and of his grandmother, and a vision of Nan sometimes disturbed his slumbers; but for the time being there was nothing real but the grim commentators and expounders of the common law. When Mr. Sanders returned home, bearing the news of Gabriel's escape, Nan Dorrington laid siege to his patience, and insisted that he go over every detail of the event, not once but a dozen times. To her it was a remarkable adventure, which fitted in well with the romances which she had been weaving all her life. How did Gabriel look when he ran from the depot at Malvern? Was he frightened? And how in the world did he manage to get in the waggon, and crawl on the inside of the sham bale of cotton and hide so that nobody could see him? And what did he say and how did he look when Mr. Sanders found him asleep in the cotton-bale box, or the cotton-box bale, whichever you might call it? "Why, honey, I've told you all I know an' a whole lot more," protested Mr. Sanders. "Ef ever'body was name Nan, I'd be the most populous man in the whole county." "Well, tell me this," Nan insisted; "what did he talk about when he woke up? Did he ask about any of the home-folks?" "Lemme see," said Mr. Sanders, pretending to reflect; "he turned over in his box, an' got his ha'r ketched in a rough plank, an' then he bust out cryin' jest like you use to do when you got hurt. I kinder muched him up, an' then he up an' tol' me a whole lot of stuff about a young lady: how he was gwine to win her ef he had to stop chawin' tobacco, an' cussin'. I'll name no names, bekaze I promised him I wouldn't." "I think that is disgusting," Nan declared. "Do you mean to tell me he never asked about his grandmother?"