Miss Beadle and her friends were a very different-looking tempered body. They were charged to the brim with acid and red pepper. They looked and felt lightning, and any one could see at a glance that they meant to fight as long as there was a hair of their friend left. It was generally understood that they had agreed to "throw in around" and help Miss Charity out, and her case had now, of course, become their case, and Bates was as much their lawyer as Miss Beadle's lawyer—and Turtle, when he got "ramptious," was jest as "sassy" to them as he was to the court, or Miss Beadle, they said—"and if they were not greatly mistaken, he'd see the day that he'd repent on't."
The women who composed these two hostile factions got into several side-fights between themselves, what Ike called "collateral ish-ers"—and twitted each other of a dozen or more dead and buried slanders, which had for a long time been forgotten. Mrs. Bird gave Aunt Sonora a regular "runnin' over," as she call'd it—"a piece of her mind, that would last her as long as she liv'd." She told Aunt Sonora, who was one of Miss Filkins's body-guard, that "she was a pretty old woman to come up thar and try to screen that Filkins critter—she'd better stick up for her—she was a nice old woman—a handsum old woman—a beau-tiful old woman—she'd better be home a-takin' care on her children—she'd better be a mendin' her husband's old breeches—it would look a great deal better. What if Filkins had lied as much about her, or her old man, she'd ask her that. Guess'd she'd make the fur fly some—guess'd she wouldn't-er stood it no longer than other folks—guess'd she couldn't get along without a character better'n other people—guess'd she hadn't got any too much to brag on, anyhow, if reports were true—s'pose she should rake up all she'd heer'd about her, and go tellin' it round arter everybody, where would she be. Bah! how I hate sich folks," she continued, putting on one of her most contemptible faces, and spitting like a mad cat, at Aunt Sonora.
Aunt Sonora was a philosopher on such occasions. She knew the storm would soon blow over, and that Mrs. Bird would be "round," to take tea with her, in less than a week—so she took a quiet pinch of snuff, and told Mrs. Bird in reply, that "she'd call onto the court, if she cut any more of her antics round her—she ought-er recollect she was in the high court, and they didn't 'low any flabbergastin' in sich places; she'd be in jail quicker'n scart first thing she know'd, and her hull pack with her, if they didn't keep mighty mum. She wasn't in Puddleford now, she'd find, if she let her mouth spit bile at that rate."
Mrs. Bird sobered down.
Squire Longbow was also present, to see the end of this famous suit. The Squire usually followed his cases into the county court, "to look arter 'em," as he said, "and to explain things." He was dressed in his best suit of homespun, and also had on his most dignified air. He did not even wince during the scathing Turtle gave him and his return, feeling perfectly sure that he couldn't be hurt by any country 'torney in the upper courts. He "ray-ther thought he was known thar." The county judge, in a very summary and careless manner, decided, "the p'ints Mr. Turtle had raised warn't good; they were all agin the return of the justis'; and he must pay respect to the lower courts."
(Here Squire Longbow drew his pocket handkerchief and blew his nose like a trumpet, to call the attention of the by-standers to the decision.)
He would repeat—this for the benefit of the Squire, evidently—"they were all agin the return of the justis', who was an old magistrate, and had did a great deal of business."
(Here the Squire bowed his head, by way of assent, to the court.)
"The court orter say, further, that Mr. Turtle's affidavit was sworn to, and how he could have sworn to such an affidavit, right agin the return of the justis', was mor'n he know'd; perhaps Mr. Turtle know'd himself, and could inform the court."
Mr. Turtle said that was his business. Mr. Turtle spoke very short, for he was greatly nettled.