I took shame to myself that I did not know it--much shame; for here was I that had been his neighbor so long, and the thing about him that was most obvious I had not observed. I marveled somewhat that Eve should know it. “Eve,” I answered, “I am ashamed. Come, let us talk with him.” “With all my heart,” she said; “for he is a good man, Adam, and a wise, and--and”-- I laughed. “And it will do me good,” I finished for her. “Why hesitate, Eve? For you are beyond me in wisdom, and so is Judson, I do not doubt. Why hesitate?” And she, uncertain whether to laugh or not, looked up at me to see. For my conversion was but recent, and I was yet somewhat sore with it. But, having looked at me, she smiled and slipped her hand within my arm--which soothed my ruffled temper to a marvel, and I smiled down at her. And so we were come to the wall--the fence was a stone fence--where stood Judson, smiling, too. Once there, we talked long of things appropriate to the season; of what to plant, and when, and peas and beans and what not; and he wondered that I had no rhubarb and no asparagus--grass, he called it. So I asked him over the wall--for the first time in ten years--and he came, most willing; and we wandered about my garden, discussing, and finally we sat us down on a bench, that was before my shed, in the sun. Then Eve, noting the pipe that he held in his worn fingers, bade him fill and light it. Which he did, with some apology, but to his great content. And there we sat, basking, until, at last, Judson arose, excusing himself for staying so long. Eve asked him to come again, often. “And,” she said, “I would like it much if I might run in to see Mrs. Judson.” The old man was pleased at that. “So do,” he said; “so do. She’ll be glad to see ye.” And we watched his bent figure crossing the garden; and, having got over the wall again, and on his own side, he paused a moment to wave his hand and to smile at us as we still sat. I felt a glow at my heart that warmed it mightily, even as the sun warmed my body. It was worth while being friends with Judson--and that I might have been ten years ago had I but known. But a fool in his folly-- “Eve,” I said, “again I have to thank you. But you should have appeared to me ten years ago. Where were you, Eve?” “I was but a child, Adam,” she replied, “or scarcely more.” And as she spoke she smiled at me and sat closer; for she well knew that I was sore hurt in my self-esteem. She well knew, too, how to heal the hurt so that it leave but a scar--for she would not have me forget again. And presently she drew a letter from the pocket of her coat. “See,” she said. “I have a letter from my father. They will come down soon--in two weeks. It is a full month before their time.”