the steps, silently regarding him, the strict etiquette of the times forbidding a nearer and more familiar approach to their uncle until such time as he might see fit to address them.
"Here, sirrah!" he said at last, addressing the boy, who was the eldest of the two children, "and you, too, little maid Mary, come up here, and tell me what you have learned since I saw you last. What do you know now?—tell me."
"Nothing much, I think, uncle," said the boy, lifting his clear eyes to the inquirer's face, with a look of roguish meaning, as the two stood at their uncle's knee; "I guess I know but little, and sister Mary here don't know any thing." The timid little Mary turned her eyes upon him deprecatingly, but said nothing.
"Well, my little man," said the judge, laughing, as he pinched the boy's round cheek, "that is modest, Johnny, any way. And now, if you please, tell me the little you do know. Hey, sirrah?"
"I know," said the boy stoutly, "that you are one of the judges that are trying the wicked witches, uncle."
