There were few benches, but the men of the town stood four deep all about the room. It being Saturday forenoon, there was less business than usual going on and even Walky Dexter was on hand. Such a gathering had not been seen in the justice’s court since a half-crazy Canuck had attacked and injured his employer on a farm at the edge of town, half a score of years before. Most of the grist that came into Judge Little’s mill was engendered by picayune neighborhood quarrels, that in local parlance “didn’t amount to a hill of beans.”
This was a different matter, it seemed. The bespectacled old Justice of the Peace, who had been settling neighborhood bickerings for half a lifetime, took a hasty squint at the docket to make sure that he had not waked up on the Day of Judgment with more than his share of important cases to dispose of. There was just the one case of speeding, the accusation sworn to by Elder Concannon.
“This here matter of ‘J. Day’s drivin’ an automobile on the Upper Middletown Road, faster than the law allows,’” the old man repeated, reading from a paper before him. “‘Complainant, Josiah Concannon.’ I see ye present, Elder. Constable, is J. Day here?”
There was a murmur in the room and Uncle Jason, with a light hand on Janice’s arm, urged her to rise. There were no ladies in the room; according to Polktown ethics, women had nothing to do with courts or court matters. Janice felt herself very much alone, despite Uncle Jason’s presence. All the friendly faces she saw about her were very grave. Nobody smiled at her. She failed to take into consideration the New England reverence for Court proceedings.
“This here is my niece, Jedge Little,” said Uncle Jason, in rather a shaking voice, for he was unused to public speaking. “She done the fast driving. Her name is Janice Day, and she’s Broxton Day’s only child. She’s livin’ with me and my wife, in our care. She’s as fine——”
“Thank you, Mr. Day,” interrupted the justice politely. “You’ll be given an opportunity to testify as to the character of the accused a little later. Let’s have things reg’lar and orderly. We’ll hear Elder Concannon first. You can sit down with your uncle, young lady,” he added to Janice.
The old Elder, towering like a figure of wrath, scowled at Janice and shook an admonitory finger while he talked. He spread before the Court in solemn accusation how Janice had sped by his house and along the Upper Road “time and time again” at a speed that made the traffic for other vehicles and pedestrians quite perilous.
“Better come to the event in question, Elder,” advised the Squire easily. “I take it these previous times when you say you saw the young lady drivin’ fast, you had arranged no means of timing her. That so?”
The Elder admitted the truth of this suggestion.
“Then let us hear about yesterday’s happening,” said Judge Little.