"It wasn't my wish to bring her off," said Kenneby; "nor was it my wish to make her guilty. All I wanted was to tell the truth and do my duty. But it was no use. I believe it never is any use."
"I think you did very well," said Moulder.
"I'm sure Lady Mason ought to be very much obliged to you," said Kantwise.
"Nobody needn't care for what's said to them in a court," said Snengkeld. "I remember when once they wanted to make out that I'd taken a parcel of teas—"
"Stolen, you mean, sir," suggested Mrs. Smiley.
"Yes; stolen. But it was only done by the opposite side in court, and I didn't think a halfporth of it. They knew where the teas was well enough."
"Speaking for myself," said Kenneby, "I must say I don't like it."
"But the paper as we signed," said Bridget, "wasn't the old gentleman's will,—no more than this is;" and she lifted up her apron. "I'm rightly sure of that."
Then again the battle raged hot and furious, and Moulder became angry with his guest, Bridget Bolster. Kantwise finding himself supported in his views by the principal witness at the trial took heart against the tyranny of Moulder and expressed his opinion, while Mrs. Smiley, with a woman's customary dislike to another woman, sneered ill-naturedly at the idea of Lady Mason's innocence. Poor Kenneby had been forced to take the middle seat on the sofa between his bride and sister; but it did not appear that the honour of his position had any effect in lessening his gloom or mitigating the severity of the judgment which had been passed on him.
"Wasn't the old gentleman's will!" said Moulder, turning on poor Bridget in his anger with a growl. "But I say it was the old gentleman's will. You never dared say as much as that in court."