“May it please the court,” said Wade, white faced and trembling with rage, “I acknowledge myself entirely wrong, and I beg the court’s pardon. I own that I was exasperated. The prisoner insulted me grossly.”
“You insulted him first. You have been doing it right along. You lawyers are always browbeating witnesses and prisoners. You get ’em where they can’t talk back and then you pelt ’em with slurs and hints and sneers and insults. You take a mean advantage of your privileged position to be overbearing and arrogant. I’ve watched you at it. I don’t think it is very sporting to say in the court room what you wouldn’t dare say on the street. But when someone takes a whack at you—wow! that’s different! Then you want the court to protect you.” He paused to consider.
The justice of the peace—Judge Hinkle, Andy Hinkle—was a slim, wizened man, brown handed, brown faced, lean and wrinkled, with thin gray hair and a thin gray beard and faded blue eyes, which could blaze blue fire on occasion. Such fire, though a mild one, now died away from those old eyes, and into them crept a slightly puzzled expression. He looked hard at Mr. Wade and he looked hard at Mr. Dines. Then he proceeded.
“Mr. Wade, this court—Oh, let’s cut out the court—that makes me tired! ‘This court fines you twenty-five dollars for contempt of court.’ How would that sound?”
Wade managed a smile, and bowed, not ungracefully. “It would sound unpleasant—perhaps a little severe, sir.”
The court twinkled. “I was only meaning how silly it seemed to a plain man for him to have to refer to himself as the court. I’m not going to fine you, Mr. Wade—not this time. I could, of course, but I won’t. It would be unfair to lecture you first and then fine you. Besides, there is something else. You have had great provocation and I feel compelled to take that into consideration. Your apology is accepted. I don’t know who began it—but if you have been insulting the prisoner it is no less true that the prisoner has been aggravating you. I don’t know as I ever saw a more provoking man. I been keepin’ an eye on him—his eyebrows, the corners of his eyes, the corners of his mouth, his shoulder-shrugging, and his elbows, and his teeth and his toes. Mr. Wade, your moldy old saw about a fool for a client was never more misplaced. This man can out talk you and never open his mouth. I’d leave him alone if I was you—he might make a fool of you.”
Johnny half opened his mouth. The judge regarded him sternly. The mouth closed hastily. Johnny dimpled. The judge’s hammer fell with a crash.
“I give you both fair notice right now,” said Judge Hinkle, “if you start any more of this quarreling I’m goin’ to slap on a fine that’ll bring a blister.”
Johnny rose timidly and addressed the court.
“Your Honor, I’m aimin’ to ’tend strictly to my knittin’ from now on. But if I should make a slip, and you do have to fine me—couldn’t you make it a jail sentence instead? I’m awful short of money, Your Honor.”