One Sunday evening in May, the Judge was taking tea with Mrs. Brice. The
occasion was memorable for more than one event--which was that he
addressed Stephen by his first name for the first time.

"You're an admirer of Abraham Lincoln," he had said.

Stephen, used to Mr. Whipple's ways, smiled quietly at his mother. He had
never dared mention to the Judge his suspicions concerning his journey to
Springfield and Freeport.

"Stephen," said the Judge (here the surprise came in), "Stephen, what do
you think of Mr. Lincoln's chances for the Republican nomination?"

"We hear of no name but Seward's, sir," said Stephen, When he had
recovered.

The Judge grunted.

"Do you think that Lincoln would make a good President?" he added.

"I have thought so, sir, ever since you were good enough to give me the
opportunity of knowing him."

It was a bold speech--the Judge drew his great eyebrows together, but he
spoke to Mrs. Brice.

"I'm not as strong as I was once, ma'am," said he. "And yet I am going to
that Chicago convention."

Mrs. Brice remonstrated mildly, to the effect that he had done his share