The judge, like the clerk, immediately became absorbed in writing. Foster sprang up and stood at his desk talking to him, but he never raised his head. Foster kept glancing over his shoulder at the door. Lydia knew for whom he was watching—like a puppy for its supper, she thought.
A voice rang out:
"The case of the People against Lydia Thorne. Lydia Thorne to the bar."
To Lydia the words suggested an elaborate game. She glanced at Miss Bennett, suppressing a smile, and saw that her companion's nerves were shaken by the sinister sound of them. Wiley rose.
"Ready—for the defense," he said.
Foster, with his eyes still on the door, murmured with less conviction, "Ready—for the people."
The clerk, laying aside his pen, had begun to take the names of the jurors out of the box at his elbow.
"Josiah Howell."
"Seat Number 1," echoed the attendant antiphonally.
"Thomas Peck."