"What's your name, boy?"
The question came so suddenly that the boy nearly tumbled from the fence upon which he was perched, as Judge Barton stopped squarely in front of him, and waited for an answer.
"Wilbert Fairlaw, sir," was the timid reply.
"Go to school?"
"No, sir."
"Do any work?"
"Yes, sir; I 'tend marm's cows and fetch wood."
"Well, that's something. But don't you think there's plenty to do in this part of the world that's better...
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