Jeff was the first one to whom Bill revealed the news.When he reached home for supper Jeff took his "plug" hat and smoothed it before hanging it upon the hall-rack.
"Dar now!" said the old man: "I knowed it was er comin'.I knowed it was gwine ter happen.Er Judge, you says, Mars William? Dem Yankees done made you er judge? It's high time, sah, dey was doin' somep'n to make up for dey rascality endurin' de war.I boun' dey holds a confab and says: 'Le's make Mars William Pemberton er judge, and dat'll settle it.' Does you have to go way down to dem Fillypines, Mars William, or kin you judge 'em from here?"
"I'd have to live there most of the time, of course," said Billy.
"I wonder what de Gubnor gwine say 'bout dat," speculated Jeff.
Billy wondered too.
After supper, when the two sat in the library, according to their habit, the Governor smoking his clay pipe and Billy his cigar, the son dutifully confessed to having been tendered the appointment.
For a long time the Governor sat, smoking, without making any comment.
Billy reclined in his favourite rocker, waiting, perhaps still flushed with satisfaction over the tender that had come to him, unsolicited, in his dingy little office, above the heads of the intriguing, time-
serving, clamorous multitude.
At last the Governor spoke; and, though his words were seemingly irrelevant, they were to the point.His voice had a note of martyrdom running through its senile quaver.
"My rheumatism has been growing steadily worse these past months, William."
"I am sorry, father," said Billy, gently.
"And I am nearly seventy-eight.I am getting to be an old man.I can recall the names of but two or three who were in public life during My Administration.What did you say is the nature of this position that is offered you, William?"
"A Federal Judgeship, father.I believe it is considered to be a somewhat flattering tender.It is outside of politics and wire-
pulling, you know."
"No doubt, no doubt.Few of the Pembertons have engaged in professional life for nearly a century.None of them have ever held Federal positions.They have been land-holders, slave-owners, and planters on a large scale.One of two of the Derwents--your mother's family--were in the law.Have you decided to accept this appointment, William?"
"I am thinking it over," said Billy, slowly, regarding the ash of his cigar.
"You have been a good son to me," continued the Governor, stirring his pipe with the handle of a penholder.
"I've been your son all my life," said Billy, darkly.
"I am often gratified," piped the Governor, betraying a touch of complacency, "by being congratulated upon having a son with such sound and sterling qualities.Especially in this, our native town, is your name linked with mine in the talk of our citizens."
"I never knew anyone to forget the vindculum," murmured Billy, unintelligibly.
"Whatever prestige," pursued the parent, "I may be possessed of, by virtue of my name and services to the state, has been yours to draw upon freely.I have not hesitated to exert it in your behalf whenever opportunity offered.And you have deserved it, William.You've been the best of sons.And now this appointment comes to take you away from me.I have but a few years left to live.I am almost dependent upon others now, even in walking and dressing.What would I do without you, my son?"
The Governor's pipe dropped to the floor.A tear trickled from his eye.His voice had risen, and crumbled to a weakling falsetto, and ceased.He was an old, old man about to be bereft of a son that cherished him.
Billy rose, and laid his hand upon the Governor's shoulder.
"Don't worry, father," he said, cheerfully."I'm not going to accept.
Elmville is good enough for me.I'll write to-night and decline it."
At the next interchange of devoirs between the Governor and General Deffenbaugh on Lee Avenue, His Excellency, with a comfortable air of self-satisfaction, spoke of the appointment that had been tendered to Billy.
The General whistled.
"That's a plum for Billy," he shouted."Who'd have thought that Billy --but, confound it, it's been in him all the time.It's a boost for Elmville.It'll send real estate up.It's an honour to our state.It's a compliment to the South.We've all been blind about Billy.When does he leave? We must have a reception.Great Gatlings! that job's eight thousand a year! There's been a car-load of lead-pencils worn to stubs figuring on those appointments.Think of it! Our little, wood-sawing, mealy-mouthed Billy! Angel unawares doesn't begin to express it.
Elmville is disgraced forever until she lines up in a hurry for ratification and apology."
The venerable Moloch smiled fatuously.He carried the fire with which to consume all these tributes to Billy, the smoke of which would ascend as an incense to himself.
"William," said the Governor, with modest pride, "has declined the appointment.He refuses to leave me in my old age.He is a good son."
The General swung round, and laid a large forefinger upon the bosom of his friend.Much of the General's success had been due to his dexterity in establishing swift lines of communication between cause and effect.
"Governor," he said, with a keen look in his big, ox-like eyes, "you've been complaining to Billy about your rheumatism."
