DELAY THE SEVENTH
It was now the end of June. Mr. Appleboy has planned to take his family abroad, but, although the annual adjournment of court for vacation is at hand, through the dilatory tactics of Maria's pettifogging counsel, the case is still untried.
Appleboy had been in attendance at court eleven separate times, but the only satisfaction which he receives is the assurance that he will be paid fifty cents for each one of his subpœnas. He is by this time so disgusted with the whole business and has taken such a fierce dislike to all judges, district attorneys, policemen and lawyers, that he would long ago have thrown up the case had it not been for the fact that he has a vague idea that in so doing he might be compounding a felony. His desire to set an example as a model citizen has long since evaporated. Countless members of the Holohan family beset him at home and at the office, beseeching him for clemency.
It is possible that without consulting the district attorney, and under the assumption that he must remain at hand as a witness, he gives up Europe and takes a house on the mosquito coast instead. His wife is very unpleasant about it. She hints that Appleboy need not have been so vindictive in the first place. After he has cancelled his passage, and the whole family are safely ensconced for the summer, Appleboy discovers that cases in which the defendants have been released upon bail are not tried during July, August, and September. Appleboy's feeling can be easily imagined. It is needless to say that he does not impart the information to his lady.
The summer proves generally unsatisfactory. The visits of Maria's family and their efforts to persuade him not to prosecute are redoubled. Most of them are domestics on their evenings "out," plentiful of tears and reproaches. It is impossible to escape them. He also receives numerous letters from the lady's attorney suggesting that he call at the latter's office. These he has systematically ignored.
DELAY THE EIGHTH
October comes. The family return. Once more the familiar subpœna is served upon our hero at his office. At the sight of it he scowls fiercely as he watches the white smoke sailing up the air shaft into the azure of the sky. It is a beautiful autumn day. He recalls the police court, and the grand jury, the Criminal Courts building, the General Sessions, and Maria and Terence, and his miserable summer! Vestryman Appleboy mutters something very much resembling profanity. He thinks: "If I had not tried to punish that cook for stealing the teapot, why!—I might be spending to-day in Rome or Paris!" The next morning, however, finds him once more on his dreary way to court.
He consults Jones again upstairs, who promises by all that is holy that nothing shall prevent a trial. The case is marked "Ready," without opposition, and the assistant district attorney moves the indictment.
"Maria Holohan to the bar!" calls the clerk, as a jury is rapidly empanelled.
Appleboy is exultant. He is to reap the reward of virtue and fidelity to principle. At last the criminal is to be made to pay the penalty. He looks eagerly for Maria.