This he sealed and dispatched by his trusted servant Jim, and then
devoted a few moments to reflection. It was the custom of the Colonel to
act first, and justify the action by reason afterwards.
He knew that Hotchkiss would at once lay the matter before rival
counsel. He knew that they would advise him that Miss Hooker had “no
case”--that she would be nonsuited on her own evidence, and he ought not
to compromise, but be ready to stand trial. He believed, however, that
Hotchkiss feared such exposure, and although his own instincts had been
at first against this remedy, he was now instinctively in favor of it.
He remembered his own power with a jury; his vanity and his chivalry
alike approved of this heroic method; he was bound by no prosaic
facts--he had his own theory of the case, which no mere evidence could
gainsay. In fact, Mrs. Hooker's admission that he was to “tell the story
in his own way” actually appeared to him an inspiration and a prophecy.
Perhaps there was something else, due possibly to the lady's wonderful
eyes, of which he had thought much. Yet it was not her simplicity that
affected him solely; on the contrary, it was her apparent intelligent
reading of the character of her recreant lover--and of his own! Of all
the Colonel's previous “light” or “serious” loves, none had ever before
flattered him in that way. And it was this, combined with the respect
which he had held for their professional relations, that precluded
his having a more familiar knowledge of his client, through serious
questioning or playful gallantry. I am not sure it was not part of the
charm to have a rustic femme incomprise as a client.
Nothing could exceed the respect with which he greeted her as she
entered his office the next day. He even affected not to notice that she
had put on her best clothes, and he made no doubt appeared as when
she had first attracted the mature yet faithless attentions of Deacon
Hotchkiss at church. A white virginal muslin was belted around her slim
figure by a blue ribbon, and her Leghorn hat was drawn around her oval
cheek by a bow of the same color. She had a Southern girl's narrow feet,
encased in white stockings and kid slippers, which were crossed primly
before her as she sat in a chair, supporting her arm by her faithful
parasol planted firmly on the floor. A faint odor of southernwood
exhaled from her, and, oddly enough, stirred the Colonel with a far-off
recollection of a pine-shaded Sunday-school on a Georgia hillside, and
of his first love, aged ten, in a short starched frock. Possibly it was
the same recollection that revived something of the awkwardness he had
felt then.
He, however, smiled vaguely, and sitting down, coughed slightly, and
placed his finger-tips together. “I have had an--er--interview with
Mr. Hotchkiss, but--I--er--regret to say there seems to be no prospect
of--er--compromise.”
He paused, and to his surprise her listless “company” face lit up with
an adorable smile. “Of course!--ketch him!” she said. “Was he mad when
you told him?” She put her knees comfortably together and leaned forward
for a reply.
For all that, wild horses could not have torn from the Colonel a word
about Hotchkiss's anger. “He expressed his intention of employing
counsel--and defending a suit,” returned the Colonel, affably basking in
her smile.
She dragged her chair nearer his desk. “Then you'll fight him tooth and
nail?” she asked eagerly; “you'll show him up? You'll tell the whole
story your own way? You'll give him fits?--and you'll make him pay?
Sure?” she went on breathlessly.
“I--er--will,” said the Colonel, almost as breathlessly.
She caught his fat white hand, which was lying on the table, between
her own and lifted it to her lips. He felt her soft young fingers even
through the lisle-thread gloves that encased them, and the warm moisture
of her lips upon his skin. He felt himself flushing--but was unable
to break the silence or change his position. The next moment she had
scuttled back with her chair to her old position.
“I--er--certainly shall do my best,” stammered the Colonel, in an
attempt to recover his dignity and composure.
“That's enough! You'll do it,” said she enthusiastically. “Lordy! Just
you talk for ME as ye did for HIS old Ditch Company, and you'll fetch
it--every time! Why, when you made that jury sit up the other day--when
you got that off about the Merrikan flag waving equally over the rights
of honest citizens banded together in peaceful commercial pursuits, as
well as over the fortress of official proflig--”
“Oligarchy,” murmured the Colonel courteously.
--“oligarchy,” repeated the girl quickly, “my breath was just took away.
I said to maw, 'Ain't he too sweet for anything!' I did, honest Injin!
And when you rolled it all off at the end--never missing a word (you
didn't need to mark 'em in a lesson-book, but had 'em all ready on your
tongue)--and walked out--Well! I didn't know you nor the Ditch Company
from Adam, but I could have just run over and kissed you there before
the whole court!”
She laughed, with her face glowing, although her strange eyes were cast
down. Alack! the Colonel's face was equally flushed, and his own beady
eyes were on his desk. To any other woman he would have voiced the banal
gallantry that he should now, himself, look forward to that reward, but
the words never reached his lips. He laughed, coughed slightly, and when
he looked up again she had fallen into the same attitude as on her first
visit, with her parasol point on the floor.
“I must ask you to--er--direct your memory to--er--another point: the
breaking off of the--er--er--er--engagement. Did he--er--give any reason
for it? Or show any cause?”
“No; he never said anything,” returned the girl.
“Not in his usual way?--er--no reproaches out of the hymn-book?--or the
sacred writings?”
“No; he just QUIT.”
“Er--ceased his attentions,” said the Colonel gravely. “And naturally
you--er--were not conscious of any cause for his doing so.”
The girl raised her wonderful eyes so suddenly and so penetratingly
without replying in any other way that the Colonel could only hurriedly
say: “I see! None, of course!”
At which she rose, the Colonel rising also. “We--shall begin proceedings
at once. I must, however, caution you to answer no questions, nor say
anything about this case to any one until you are in court.”
She answered his request with another intelligent look and a nod. He
accompanied her to the door. As he took her proffered hand, he raised
the lisle-thread fingers to his lips with old-fashioned gallantry. As if
that act had condoned for his first omissions and awkwardness, he became
his old-fashioned self again, buttoned his coat, pulled out his shirt
frill, and strutted back to his desk.
A day or two later it was known throughout the town that Zaidee Hooker
had sued Adoniram Hotchkiss for breach of promise, and that the damages
were laid at five thousand dollars. As in those bucolic days the Western
press was under the secure censorship of a revolver, a cautious tone of
criticism prevailed, and any gossip was confined to personal expression,
and even then at the risk of the gossiper. Nevertheless, the situation
provoked the intensest curiosity. The Colonel was approached--until
his statement that he should consider any attempt to overcome his
professional secrecy a personal reflection withheld further advances.
The community were left to the more ostentatious information of the
defendant's counsel, Messrs. Kitcham and Bilser, that the case was
“ridiculous” and “rotten,” that the plaintiff would be nonsuited, and
the fire-eating Starbottle would be taught a lesson that he could not
“bully” the law, and there were some dark hints of a conspiracy. It was
even hinted that the “case” was the revengeful and preposterous outcome
of the refusal of Hotchkiss to pay Starbottle an extravagant fee for his
late services to the Ditch Company. It is unnecessary to say that these
words were not reported to the Colonel. It was, however, an unfortunate
circumstance for the calmer, ethical consideration of the subject that
the Church sided with Hotchkiss, as this provoked an equal adherence
to the plaintiff and Starbottle on the part of the larger body of
non-churchgoers, who were delighted at a possible exposure of the
weakness of religious rectitude. “I've allus had my suspicions o' them
early candle-light meetings down at that gospel shop,” said one critic,
“and I reckon Deacon Hotchkiss didn't rope in the gals to attend jest
for psalm-singing.” “Then for him to get up and leave the board afore
the game's finished and try to sneak out of it,” said an other,--“I
suppose that's what they call RELIGIOUS.”
It was therefore not remarkable that the court-house three weeks later
was crowded with an excited multitude of the curious and sympathizing.
The fair plaintiff, with her mother, was early in attendance, and under
the Colonel's advice appeared in the same modest garb in which she had
first visited his office. This and her downcast, modest demeanor were
perhaps at first disappointing to the crowd, who had evidently expected
a paragon of loveliness in this Circe of that grim, ascetic defendant,
who sat beside his counsel. But presently all eyes were fixed on the
Colonel, who certainly made up in his appearance any deficiency of his
fair client. His portly figure was clothed in a blue dress coat with
brass buttons, a buff waistcoat which permitted his frilled shirt-front
to become erectile above it, a black satin stock which confined a boyish
turned-down collar around his full neck, and immaculate drill trousers,
strapped over varnished boots. A murmur ran round the court. “Old
'Personally Responsible' has got his war-paint on;” “The Old War-Horse
is smelling powder,” were whispered comments. Yet for all that, the
most irreverent among them recognized vaguely, in this bizarre figure,
something of an honored past in their country's history, and possibly
felt the spell of old deeds and old names that had once thrilled their
boyish pulses. The new District Judge returned Colonel Starbottle's
profoundly punctilious bow. The Colonel was followed by his negro
servant, carrying a parcel of hymn-books and Bibles, who, with a
courtesy evidently imitated from his master, placed one before the
opposite counsel. This, after a first curious glance, the lawyer
somewhat superciliously tossed aside. But when Jim, proceeding to the
jury-box, placed with equal politeness the remaining copies before the
jury, the opposite counsel sprang to his feet.
“I want to direct the attention of the Court to this unprecedented
tampering with the jury, by this gratuitous exhibition of matter
impertinent and irrelevant to the issue.”
The Judge cast an inquiring look at Colonel Starbottle.
“May it please the Court,” returned Colonel Starbottle with dignity,
ignoring the counsel, “the defendant's counsel will observe that he
is already furnished with the matter--which I regret to say he has
treated--in the presence of the Court--and of his client, a deacon of
the church--with--er--great superciliousness. When I state to your
Honor that the books in question are hymn-books and copies of the Holy
Scriptures, and that they are for the instruction of the jury, to whom
I shall have to refer them in the course of my opening, I believe I am
within my rights.”
“The act is certainly unprecedented,” said the Judge dryly, “but unless
the counsel for the plaintiff expects the jury to SING from these
hymn-books, their introduction is not improper, and I cannot admit the
objection. As defendant's counsel are furnished with copies also, they
cannot plead 'surprise,' as in the introduction of new matter, and as
plaintiff's counsel relies evidently upon the jury's attention to his
opening, he would not be the first person to distract it.” After a pause
he added, addressing the Colonel, who remained standing, “The Court is
with you, sir; proceed.”
But the Colonel remained motionless and statuesque, with folded arms.
“I have overruled the objection,” repeated the Judge; “you may go on.”
“I am waiting, your Honor, for the--er--withdrawal by the defendant's
counsel of the word 'tampering,' as refers to myself, and of
'impertinent,' as refers to the sacred volumes.”
“The request is a proper one, and I have no doubt will be acceded to,”
returned the Judge quietly. The defendant's counsel rose and mumbled
a few words of apology, and the incident closed. There was, however, a
general feeling that the Colonel had in some way “scored,” and if his
object had been to excite the greatest curiosity about the books, he had
made his point.
But impassive of his victory, he inflated his chest, with his right hand
in the breast of his buttoned coat, and began. His usual high color had
paled slightly, but the small pupils of his prominent eyes glittered
like steel. The young girl leaned forward in her chair with an attention
so breathless, a sympathy so quick, and an admiration so artless
and unconscious that in an instant she divided with the speaker the
attention of the whole assemblage. It was very hot; the court was
crowded to suffocation; even the open windows revealed a crowd of faces
outside the building, eagerly following the Colonel's words.
He would remind the jury that only a few weeks ago he stood there as
the advocate of a powerful Company, then represented by the present
defendant. He spoke then as the champion of strict justice against
legal oppression; no less should he to-day champion the cause of the
unprotected and the comparatively defenseless--save for that paramount
power which surrounds beauty and innocence--even though the plaintiff
of yesterday was the defendant of to-day. As he approached the court a
moment ago he had raised his eyes and beheld the starry flag flying from
its dome, and he knew that glorious banner was a symbol of the perfect
equality, under the Constitution, of the rich and the poor, the strong
and the weak--an equality which made the simple citizen taken from the
plough in the field, the pick in the gulch, or from behind the counter
in the mining town, who served on that jury, the equal arbiters of
justice with that highest legal luminary whom they were proud to welcome
on the bench to-day. The Colonel paused, with a stately bow to the
impassive Judge. It was this, he continued, which lifted his heart as
he approached the building. And yet--he had entered it with an
uncertain--he might almost say--a timid step. And why? He knew,
gentlemen, he was about to confront a profound--aye! a sacred
responsibility! Those hymn-books and holy writings handed to the jury
were NOT, as his Honor had surmised, for the purpose of enabling the
jury to indulge in--er--preliminary choral exercise! He might, indeed,
say, “Alas, not!” They were the damning, incontrovertible proofs of the
perfidy of the defendant. And they would prove as terrible a warning to
him as the fatal characters upon Belshazzar's wall. There was a strong
sensation. Hotchkiss turned a sallow green. His lawyers assumed a
careless smile.
It was his duty to tell them that this was not one of those ordinary
“breach-of-promise” cases which were too often the occasion of ruthless
mirth and indecent levity in the court-room. The jury would find
nothing of that here. There were no love-letters with the epithets of
endearment, nor those mystic crosses and ciphers which, he had been
credibly informed, chastely hid the exchange of those mutual caresses
known as “kisses.” There was no cruel tearing of the veil from those
sacred privacies of the human affection; there was no forensic shouting
out of those fond confidences meant only for ONE. But there was, he was
shocked to say, a new sacrilegious intrusion. The weak pipings of Cupid
were mingled with the chorus of the saints,--the sanctity of the temple
known as the “meeting--house” was desecrated by proceedings more in
keeping with the shrine of Venus; and the inspired writings themselves
were used as the medium of amatory and wanton flirtation by the
defendant in his sacred capacity as deacon.
The Colonel artistically paused after this thunderous denunciation. The
jury turned eagerly to the leaves of the hymn-books, but the larger gaze
of the audience remained fixed upon the speaker and the girl, who sat in
rapt admiration of his periods. After the hush, the Colonel continued
in a lower and sadder voice: “There are, perhaps, few of us here,
gentlemen,--with the exception of the defendant,--who can arrogate to
themselves the title of regular church-goers, or to whom these humbler
functions of the prayer-meeting, the Sunday-school, and the Bible-class
are habitually familiar. Yet”--more solemnly--“down in our hearts is the
deep conviction of our shortcomings and failings, and a laudable desire
that others, at least, should profit by the teachings we neglect.
Perhaps,” he continued, closing his eyes dreamily, “there is not a
man here who does not recall the happy days of his boyhood, the rustic
village spire, the lessons shared with some artless village maiden, with
whom he later sauntered, hand in hand, through the woods, as the simple
rhyme rose upon their lips,--
'Always make it a point to have it a rule,
Never to be late at the Sabbath-school.'
“He would recall the strawberry feasts, the welcome annual picnic,
redolent with hunks of gingerbread and sarsaparilla. How would they feel
to know that these sacred recollections were now forever profaned in
their memory by the knowledge that the defendant was capable of using
such occasions to make love to the larger girls and teachers, whilst
his artless companions were innocently--the Court will pardon me for
introducing what I am credibly informed is the local expression--'doing
gooseberry'?” The tremulous flicker of a smile passed over the faces of
the listening crowd, and the Colonel slightly winced. But he recovered
himself instantly, and continued,--
“My client, the only daughter of a widowed mother--who has for years
stemmed the varying tides of adversity, in the western precincts of this
town--stands before you to-day invested only in her own innocence. She
wears no--er--rich gifts of her faithless admirer--is panoplied in no
jewels, rings, nor mementos of affection such as lovers delight to hang
upon the shrine of their affections; hers is not the glory with which
Solomon decorated the Queen of Sheba, though the defendant, as I shall
show later, clothed her in the less expensive flowers of the king's
poetry. No, gentlemen! The defendant exhibited in this affair a certain
frugality of--er--pecuniary investment, which I am willing to admit may
be commendable in his class. His only gift was characteristic alike
of his methods and his economy. There is, I understand, a certain
not unimportant feature of religious exercise known as 'taking a
collection.' The defendant, on this occasion, by the mute presentation
of a tin plate covered with baize, solicited the pecuniary contributions
of the faithful. On approaching the plaintiff, however, he himself
slipped a love-token upon the plate and pushed it towards her. That
love-token was a lozenge--a small disk, I have reason to believe,
concocted of peppermint and sugar, bearing upon its reverse surface the
simple words, 'I love you!' I have since ascertained that these disks
may be bought for five cents a dozen--or at considerably less than one
half cent for the single lozenge. Yes, gentlemen, the words 'I love
you!'--the oldest legend of all; the refrain 'when the morning
stars sang together'--were presented to the plaintiff by a medium so
insignificant that there is, happily, no coin in the republic low enough
to represent its value.
“I shall prove to you, gentlemen of the jury,” said the Colonel
solemnly, drawing a Bible from his coat-tail pocket, “that the defendant
for the last twelve months conducted an amatory correspondence with
the plaintiff by means of underlined words of Sacred Writ and church
psalmody, such as 'beloved,' 'precious,' and 'dearest,' occasionally
appropriating whole passages which seemed apposite to his tender
passion. I shall call your attention to one of them. The defendant,
while professing to be a total abstainer,--a man who, in my own
knowledge, has refused spirituous refreshment as an inordinate weakness
of the flesh,--with shameless hypocrisy underscores with his pencil the
following passage, and presents it to the plaintiff. The gentlemen of
the jury will find it in the Song of Solomon, page 548, chapter ii.
verse 5.” After a pause, in which the rapid rustling of leaves was heard
in the jury-box, Colonel Starbottle declaimed in a pleading, stentorian
voice, “'Stay me with--er--FLAGONS, comfort me with--er--apples--for
I am--er--sick of love.' Yes, gentlemen!--yes, you may well turn
from those accusing pages and look at the double-faced defendant. He
desires--to--er--be--'stayed with flagons'! I am not aware at present
what kind of liquor is habitually dispensed at these meetings, and for
which the defendant so urgently clamored; but it will be my duty, before
this trial is over, to discover it, if I have to summon every barkeeper
in this district. For the moment I will simply call your attention to
the QUANTITY. It is not a single drink that the defendant asks for--not
a glass of light and generous wine, to be shared with his inamorata,
but a number of flagons or vessels, each possibly holding a pint
measure--FOR HIMSELF!”
The smile of the audience had become a laugh. The Judge looked up
warningly, when his eye caught the fact that the Colonel had again
winced at this mirth. He regarded him seriously. Mr. Hotchkiss's counsel
had joined in the laugh affectedly, but Hotchkiss himself sat ashy pale.
There was also a commotion in the jury-box, a hurried turning over of
leaves, and an excited discussion.
“The gentlemen of the jury,” said the Judge, with official gravity,
“will please keep order and attend only to the speeches of counsel. Any
discussion HERE is irregular and premature, and must be reserved for the
jury-room after they have retired.”
The foreman of the jury struggled to his feet. He was a powerful man,
with a good-humored face, and, in spite of his unfelicitous nickname of
“The Bone-Breaker,” had a kindly, simple, but somewhat emotional nature.
Nevertheless, it appeared as if he were laboring under some powerful
indignation.
“Can we ask a question, Judge?” he said respectfully, although his voice
had the unmistakable Western American ring in it, as of one who was
unconscious that he could be addressing any but his peers.
“Yes,” said the Judge good-humoredly.
“We're finding in this yere piece, out o' which the Kernel hes just bin
a-quotin', some language that me and my pardners allow hadn't orter be
read out afore a young lady in court, and we want to know of you--ez a
fa'r-minded and impartial man--ef this is the reg'lar kind o' book given
to gals and babies down at the meetin'-house.”
“The jury will please follow the counsel's speech without comment,” said
the Judge briefly, fully aware that the defendant's counsel would spring
to his feet, as he did promptly.
“The Court will allow us to explain to the gentlemen that the language
they seem to object to has been accepted by the best theologians for
the last thousand years as being purely mystic. As I will explain later,
those are merely symbols of the Church”--
“Of wot?” interrupted the foreman, in deep scorn.
“Of the Church!”
“We ain't askin' any questions o' YOU, and we ain't takin' any answers,”
said the foreman, sitting down abruptly.
“I must insist,” said the Judge sternly, “that the plaintiff's counsel
be allowed to continue his opening without interruption. You” (to
defendant's counsel) “will have your opportunity to reply later.”
The counsel sank down in his seat with the bitter conviction that the
jury was manifestly against him, and the case as good as lost. But his
face was scarcely as disturbed as his client's, who, in great agitation,
had begun to argue with him wildly, and was apparently pressing some
point against the lawyer's vehement opposal. The Colonel's murky eyes
brightened as he still stood erect, with his hand thrust in his breast.
“It will be put to you, gentlemen, when the counsel on the other side
refrains from mere interruption and confines himself to reply, that my
unfortunate client has no action--no remedy at law--because there were
no spoken words of endearment. But, gentlemen, it will depend upon YOU
to say what are and what are not articulate expressions of love. We all
know that among the lower animals, with whom you may possibly be called
upon to classify the defendant, there are certain signals more or less
harmonious, as the case may be. The ass brays, the horse neighs, the
sheep bleats--the feathered denizens of the grove call to their mates
in more musical roundelays. These are recognized facts, gentlemen, which
you yourselves, as dwellers among nature in this beautiful land, are all
cognizant of. They are facts that no one would deny--and we should have
a poor opinion of the ass who, at--er--such a supreme moment,
would attempt to suggest that his call was unthinking and without
significance. But, gentlemen, I shall prove to you that such was the
foolish, self-convicting custom of the defendant. With the greatest
reluctance, and the--er--greatest pain, I succeeded in wresting from
the maidenly modesty of my fair client the innocent confession that
the defendant had induced her to correspond with him in these methods.
Picture to yourself, gentlemen, the lonely moonlight road beside the
widow's humble cottage. It is a beautiful night, sanctified to the
affections, and the innocent girl is leaning from her casement.
Presently there appears upon the road a slinking, stealthy figure, the
defendant on his way to church. True to the instruction she has received
from him, her lips part in the musical utterance” (the Colonel lowered
his voice in a faint falsetto, presumably in fond imitation of his
fair client), “'Keeree!' Instantly the night becomes resonant with the
impassioned reply” (the Colonel here lifted his voice in stentorian
tones), “'Kee-row.' Again, as he passes, rises the soft 'Keeree;' again,
as his form is lost in the distance, comes back the deep 'Keerow.'”
A burst of laughter, long, loud, and irrepressible, struck the whole
court-room, and before the Judge could lift his half-composed face
and take his handkerchief from his mouth, a faint “Keeree” from some
unrecognized obscurity of the court-room was followed by a loud “Keerow”
from some opposite locality. “The Sheriff will clear the court,” said
the Judge sternly; but, alas! as the embarrassed and choking officials
rushed hither and thither, a soft “Keeree” from the spectators at
the window, OUTSIDE the court-house, was answered by a loud chorus of
“Keerows” from the opposite windows, filled with onlookers. Again
the laughter arose everywhere,--even the fair plaintiff herself sat
convulsed behind her handkerchief.
The figure of Colonel Starbottle alone remained erect--white and rigid.
And then the Judge, looking up, saw--what no one else in the court had
seen--that the Colonel was sincere and in earnest; that what he had
conceived to be the pleader's most perfect acting and most elaborate
irony were the deep, serious, mirthless CONVICTIONS of a man without the
least sense of humor. There was the respect of this conviction in
the Judge's voice as he said to him gently, “You may proceed, Colonel
Starbottle.”
“I thank your Honor,” said the Colonel slowly, “for recognizing and
doing all in your power to prevent an interruption that, during my
thirty years' experience at the bar, I have never been subjected
to without the privilege of holding the instigators thereof
responsible--PERSONALLY responsible. It is possibly my fault that I have
failed, oratorically, to convey to the gentlemen of the jury the full
force and significance of the defendant's signals. I am aware that my
voice is singularly deficient in producing either the dulcet tones of my
fair client or the impassioned vehemence of the defendant's response.
I will,” continued the Colonel, with a fatigued but blind fatuity that
ignored the hurriedly knit brows and warning eyes of the Judge, “try
again. The note uttered by my client” (lowering his voice to the
faintest of falsettos) “was 'Keeree;' the response was 'Keerow-ow.'” And
the Colonel's voice fairly shook the dome above him.
Another uproar of laughter followed this apparently audacious
repetition, but was interrupted by an unlooked-for incident. The
defendant rose abruptly, and tearing himself away from the withholding
hand and pleading protestations of his counsel, absolutely fled from
the court-room, his appearance outside being recognized by a prolonged
“Keerow” from the bystanders, which again and again followed him in the
distance.
In the momentary silence which followed, the Colonel's voice was heard
saying, “We rest here, your Honor,” and he sat down. No less white, but
more agitated, was the face of the defendant's counsel, who instantly
rose.
“For some unexplained reason, your Honor, my client desires to suspend
further proceedings, with a view to effect a peaceable compromise with
the plaintiff. As he is a man of wealth and position, he is able and
willing to pay liberally for that privilege. While I, as his counsel, am
still convinced of his legal irresponsibility, as he has chosen publicly
to abandon his rights here, I can only ask your Honor's permission to
suspend further proceedings until I can confer with Colonel Starbottle.”
“As far as I can follow the pleadings,” said the Judge gravely, “the
case seems to be hardly one for litigation, and I approve of the
defendant's course, while I strongly urge the plaintiff to accept it.”
Colonel Starbottle bent over his fair client. Presently he rose,
unchanged in look or demeanor. “I yield, your Honor, to the wishes of my
client, and--er--lady. We accept.”
Before the court adjourned that day it was known throughout the town
that Adoniram K. Hotchkiss had compromised the suit for four thousand
dollars and costs.
Colonel Starbottle had so far recovered his equanimity as to strut
jauntily towards his office, where he was to meet his fair client. He
was surprised, however, to find her already there, and in company with a
somewhat sheepish-looking young man--a stranger. If the Colonel had
any disappointment in meeting a third party to the interview, his
old-fashioned courtesy did not permit him to show it. He bowed
graciously, and politely motioned them each to a seat.
“I reckoned I'd bring Hiram round with me,” said the young lady, lifting
her searching eyes, after a pause, to the Colonel's, “though he WAS
awful shy, and allowed that you didn't know him from Adam, or even
suspect his existence. But I said, 'That's just where you slip up,
Hiram; a pow'ful man like the Colonel knows everything--and I've seen it
in his eye.' Lordy!” she continued, with a laugh, leaning forward over
her parasol, as her eyes again sought the Colonel's, “don't you remember
when you asked me if I loved that old Hotchkiss, and I told you, 'That's
tellin',' and you looked at me--Lordy! I knew THEN you suspected there
was a Hiram SOMEWHERE, as good as if I'd told you. Now you jest get up,
Hiram, and give the Colonel a good hand-shake. For if it wasn't for HIM
and HIS searchin' ways, and HIS awful power of language, I wouldn't hev
got that four thousand dollars out o' that flirty fool Hotchkiss--enough
to buy a farm, so as you and me could get married! That's what you owe
to HIM. Don't stand there like a stuck fool starin' at him. He won't eat
you--though he's killed many a better man. Come, have I got to do ALL
the kissin'?”
It is of record that the Colonel bowed so courteously and so profoundly
that he managed not merely to evade the proffered hand of the shy Hiram,
but to only lightly touch the franker and more impulsive finger-tips of
the gentle Zaidee. “I--er--offer my sincerest congratulations--though
I think you--er--overestimate--my--er--powers of penetration.
Unfortunately, a pressing engagement, which may oblige me also to leave
town tonight, forbids my saying more. I have--er--left the--er--business
settlement of this--er--case in the hands of the lawyers who do my
office work, and who will show you every attention. And now let me wish
you a very good afternoon.”
Nevertheless, the Colonel returned to his private room, and it was
nearly twilight when the faithful Jim entered, to find him sitting
meditatively before his desk. “'Fo' God! Kernel, I hope dey ain't nuffin
de matter, but you's lookin' mighty solemn! I ain't seen you look dat
way, Kernel, since de day pooh Massa Stryker was fetched home shot froo
de head.”
“Hand me down the whiskey, Jim,” said the Colonel, rising slowly.
The negro flew to the closet joyfully, and brought out the bottle.
The Colonel poured out a glass of the spirit and drank it with his old
deliberation.
“You're quite right, Jim,” he said, putting down his glass, “but
I'm--er--getting old--and--somehow I am missing poor Stryker damnably!”