But the
white people shook their heads.
At first he was coming at Christmas-time,--but the vaca-
tion proved too short; and then, the next summer,--but times
were hard and schooling costly, and so, instead, he worked in
Johnstown. And so it drifted to the next summer, and the
next,--till playmates scattered, and mother grew gray, and
sister went up to the Judge's kitchen to work. And still the
legend lingered,--"When John comes."
Up at the Judge's they rather liked this refrain; for they too
had a John--a fair-haired, smooth-faced boy, who had played
many a long summer's day to its close with his darker
namesake. "Yes, sir! John is at Princeton, sir," said the
broad-shouldered gray-haired Judge every morning as he
marched down to the post-office. "Showing the Yankees
what a Southern gentleman can do," he added; and strode
home again with his letters and papers. Up at the great
pillared house they lingered long over the Princeton letter,--
the Judge and his frail wife, his sister and growing daughters.
"It'll make a man of him," said the Judge, "college is the
place." And then he asked the shy little waitress, "Well,
Jennie, how's your John?" and added reflectively, "Too bad,
too bad your mother sent him off--it will spoil him.
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