Kate got no end of amusement out of him, and would often walk with him to court that she might listen to his drolleries--especially his queer views of life--the simplest and most unaffected to which she had ever bent her ears. Now and then, as time went on, despite her good-natured toleration of his want of independence--he being always dominated by his wife--she chanced, to her great surprise, upon some nuggets of hard common-sense of so high an assay that they might really be graded as wisdom--his analysis of men and women being particularly surprising. Those little twinkling, and sometimes sleepy, eyes of his, now that she began to study him the closer, reminded her of the unreadable eyes of an elephant she had once seen--eyes that presaged nothing but inertia, until whack went the trunk and over toppled the boy who had teased him. And with this new discovery there developed at last a certain respect for the lazy, good-natured, droll old man. Opinions which she had heretofore laughed at suddenly became of value; criticisms which she had passed over in silence seemed worthy of further consideration. Peggy, however, fitted into all the tender places of her heart. She had never known her own mother; all she remembered was a face bending close and a soft hand that tucked in the coverlet one night when she couldn't sleep. The memory had haunted her from the days of her childhood--clear and distinct, with every detail in place. Had there been light enough in her mother's bed-room, she was sure she could have added the dear face itself to her recollection. Plump, full-bosomed, rosy-cheeked Peggy (fifteen years younger than Tom) supplied the touch and voice, and all the tenderness as well, that these sad memories recalled, and all that the motherless girl had yearned for. And the simple, uneventful life--one without restraints of any kind, greatly satisfied her: so different from her own at home with Prim as Chief Regulator. Everybody, to her delight, did as they pleased, each one following the bent of his or her inclination. St. George was out at daybreak in the duck-blinds, or, breakfast over, roaming the fields with his dogs, Todd a close attendant. The judge would stroll over to court an hour or more late, only to find an equally careless and contented group blocking up the door--“po' white trash” most of them, each one with a grievance. Whenever St. George accompanied him, and he often did, his Honor would spend even less time on the bench--cutting short both ends of the session, Temple laughing himself sore over the judge's decisions. “And he stole yo' shoat and never paid for him?” he heard his honor say one day in a hog case, where two farmers who had been waiting hours for Tom's coming were plaintiff and defendant. “How did you know it was yo' shoat--did you mark him?” “No, suh.” “Tie a tag around his neck?” “No, suh.”