“Tell the jury.”
Like many rural witnesses, she persisted in addressing the judge. She would fix her serious brown eyes on the stolid wooden faces in the jury-box, then lift them to the judge and answer.
“I kem down ter the jail ter see Reuben, an’ tell him.”
“And did you see him?”
She looked at Harshaw, with a deep humiliation and resentment intensifying the flush on her delicate cheek to a burning crimson. His gravity, the respect of his manner, reassured her. She replied with her deliberate dignity,——
“You-uns know mighty well he wouldn’t see me.”
“Then what did you do?”
She seemed for a moment doubtful if she would answer.
“I dunno how ye hev forgot,” she said slowly. “I hain’t.”
“I want you to tell the jury,” he explained.