"Then, Mrs. Scoville, may I request you to come in?"
If she hesitated, it was but natural. Exhaustion is the obvious
result of so many excitements, and that she was utterly exhausted
was very apparent. Mr. Black cast her a commiserating smile, but
the judge only noticed that she entered the room at his bidding
and sat down by the window. He was keying himself up to sustain a
fresh excitement. He was as exhausted as she, possibly more so. He
had a greater number of wearing years to his credit.
"Judge, I'm your friend;" thus Mr. Black began. "Thinking you must
wish to know who started the riotous procedure which disgraced our
town to-day, I have brought the ringleader here to answer for
himself--that is, if you wish to question him."
Judge Ostrander wheeled about, gave the man a searching look, and
failing to recognise him as any one he had ever seen before,
beckoned him in.
"I suppose," said he, when the lounging and insolent figure was
fairly before their eyes, "that this is not the first time you
have been asked to explain your enmity to my long absent son."
"Naw; I've had my talk wherever and whenever I took the notion.
Oliver Ostrander hit me once. I was jest a little chap then and
meanin' no harm to any one. I kept a-pesterin' of 'im and he hit
me. He'd a better have hit a feller who hadn't my memory. I've
never forgiven that hit, and I never will. That's why I'm hittin'
him now. It's just my turn; that's all."
"Your turn! YOUR turn! And what do you think has given YOU an
opportunity to turn on HIM?"
"I'm not in the talkin' mood just now," the fellow drawled,
frankly insolent, not only in his tone but in his bearing to all
present.
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