“I have no day; days are all alike to me, Lucy. My occupations of Monday could be transferred to a Saturday, or, if need be, postponed indefinitely beyond it.” “The glorious leisure of the fortunate,” said the Judge, with a peculiar smile. “Or the vacuity of the unlucky, possibly,” said Tom, with an easy laugh. “At all events, young gentleman, you carry your load jauntily.” “One reason is, perhaps, that I never knew it was a load. I have always paraded in heavy marching order, so that I don't mind the weight of my pack.” For the first time did the old man's features relax into a look of kindly meaning. To find the youth not merely-equal to appreciate a figure of speech, but able to carry on the illustration, seemed so to identify him with his own blood and kindred that the old Judge felt himself instinctively drawn towards him. “Lucy, help your brother to something; there was an excellent curry there awhile ago,--if it be not cold.” “I have set my affections on that cold beef. It seems tome an age since I have seen a real sirloin.” A slight twitch crossed the Judge's face,--a pang he felt at what might be an insinuated reproach at his in hospitality; and he said, in a tone of almost apology, “We see no one---absolutely no one--here. Lucy resigns herself to the companionship of a very dreary old man whom all else have forgotten.” “Don't say so, grandpapa, on the day when such a testimony of esteem and affection reaches you.” Young Lendrick looked up from his plate, turning his eyes first towards his sister, then towards his grandfather; his glance was so palpably an interrogatory, there was no-mistaking it. Perhaps the old man's first impulse was not to reply; but his courtesy or his vanity, or a blending of both, carried the day, and he said, in a voice of much feeling: “Your sister refers to an address I have just received,--an address which the Irish Bar have deemed proper to transmit to me with their congratulations on my recovery. It is as gratifying, it is as flattering, as she says. My brethren have shown that they can rise above all consideration of sect or party in tendering their esteem to a man whom no administration has ever been able to convert into a partisan.” “But you have always been a Whig, sir, haven't you?” said Tom, bluntly. “I have been a Whig, sir, in the sense that a King is a Royalist,” said the old man, haughtily; and though Tom felt sorely provoked to reply to this pretentious declaration, he only gave a wicked glance at his sister, and drank off his wine. “It was at the moment of your unexpected appearance,” continued the Judge, “that I was discussing with your sister whether my reply to this compliment would come better if delivered here, or from my place on the Bench.” “I 'd say from the Bench,” said Tom, as he helped himself to another slice of beef.