The visitors were given the highest seat of honor, and as soon as Mr. Walters’ speech was finished, he introduced them to the school. The middle-aged man turned out to be a prodigious personage⁠—no less a one than the county judge⁠—altogether the most august creation these children had ever looked upon⁠—and they wondered what kind of material he was made of⁠—and they half wanted to hear him roar, and were half afraid he might, too. He was from Constantinople, twelve miles away⁠—so he had travelled, and seen the world⁠—these very eyes had looked upon the county courthouse⁠—which was said to have a tin roof. The awe which these reflections inspired was attested by the impressive silence and the ranks of staring eyes. This was the great Judge Thatcher, brother of their own lawyer. Jeff Thatcher immediately went forward, to be familiar with the great man and be envied by the school. It would have been music to his soul to hear the whisperings: