“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.