But when the door had closed behind her, his countenance was faintly shadowed. Concern showed in his eyes, dwelt there. He remained for a little time motionless, absorbed in some thought that distressed him. In the end, there was a suggestion of effort in his movements as he picked up his pen and began again his slow and careful writing. Bethany Iron Furnace against John Thomas, David Jones, et al. His decision.
II
It was half an hour later that the Judge came out of his study to the head of the stairs and shouted down them: “Hi, Jim!” Cotterill, a certain impatience increasingly manifest in his eyes, had been talking with Mrs. Hosmer. He answered, and the Judge called to him: “Come along up.”
Mrs. Hosmer followed the attorney into the hall and watched him climb the stairs. A short, bald man with a countenance that was always good-natured, but never prepossessing. She saw him grip her husband’s hand at the top, panting a little from the ascent. They turned together toward the Judge’s study, and she went back into the living room.
“This is neighborly of you, Jim,” Judge Hosmer was saying, as he closed the study door behind them. “Come in and set. Have a stogie. I’m glad you didn’t hop back down home without coming to say hello.”
Cotterill’s rather small eyes whipped toward the older man, then away again. “I didn’t figure we ought to get together while the case was going on,” he explained. Both men, meticulous and precise in their professional utterances, dropped easily into the more colloquial idiom of their daily life.
“Right enough,” Judge Hosmer agreed. “Fair enough. But no harm now. How’re tricks, anyhow? Folks well?”
“Yes, well enough. Were when I left. I’ve been too busy to do much letter writing, since I came up here.”
“They have sort of kept you humping, haven’t they?” the Judge agreed.
“Well, that’s my job,” Cotterill told him; and the Judge assented.