"Oh, you dear Judge! We waited an hour for you"—it doubtless seemed long to her. "What in the world kept you?"
"Couldn't help it, little one," came a voice in reply; and a man with silver-white hair, dignified bearing, and a sunny smile on his face edged his way around the table to the grandmother, every hand held out to him as he passed, and, bending low over the dear lady, expressed his regrets at having been detained.
Then with an extended hand to me and, "It gives me very great pleasure to see you in this part of the South, sir," he sat down in the vacant chair, nodding to everybody graciously as he spread his napkin. A moment later he leaned forward and said in explanation to the grandmother,—
"I waited for the jury to come in. You received my message, of course?"
"Oh, yes, dear Judge; and although we missed you we sat down at once."
"Have you been in court all day?" I asked as an introductory remark. Of course he had if he had waited for the jury. What an extraordinary collection of idiocies one could make if he jotted down all the stupid things said and heard when conversations were being opened.
"Yes, I am sorry to say, trying one of those cases which are becoming daily more common."
I looked up inquiringly.
"Oh, a negro, of course," and the Judge picked up his fork and moved back the wine glass.
"And such dreadful things happen, and such dreadful creatures are going about," said the grandmother, raising her hand deprecatingly.