Mr. Turtle rose in a very unruffled manner for him, and asked the court, "if sich a contempt as that was to go unnoticed—a reg'lar admitted 'torney assaulted right inter the face of the court—he moved that Mr. Tumbleton be confined in the log jail for twenty-four hours—out of respect to his honor the court."
The judge ordered Mr. Tumbleton to be confined, and thus the second juror was disposed of.
"You live up on Poverty Common—don't you?" continued Ike, as if nothing had happened, addressing himself to a runt of a man, who looked as if he had been on short feed, and who had strayed on the jury no one knew how.
"Yes, I do," answered the man.
"Your name is Flummer?"
"Flum what?" inquired the juror.
"Flum-mer," answered Ike, tartly.
"Well, whose business is that, if it is?"
"Mine," said Ike. "Wasn't old Zeb Flummer your grandfather?"
"Old Zeb? yes."