"I say 'tis false! you are!" cried Philista, at the top of her lungs.
"Silence!" roared Longbow; "the dignity of this court shall be preserved."
"Easy, Squire, a little easy," grumbled a voice in the crowd, proceeding from one of Philista's friends; "never speak to a woman in a passion."
"I fine that man one dollar for contempt of court, whoever he is!" exclaimed the Squire, as he stood upon tiptoe, trying to catch the offender with his eye.
"I guess 'twarn't nothing but the wind," said Bates.
The Squire took his seat, put his pipe in his mouth, and blew out a long whiff of smoke.
"Order being restored, let the case now proceed," he exclaimed.
Ike opened his case to the jury. He said Philista Filkins was a maiden lady of about forty; some called her an old maid, but that warn't so, not by several years; her teeth were as sound as a nut, and her hair as black as a crow. She was a nurse, and had probably given more lobelia, pennyroyal, catnip, and other roots and herbs, to the people of Puddleford, than all the rest of the women in it. Of course she was a kind of peramrulary being. (The Squire here informed the jury that peramrulary was a legal word, which he would fully explain in his charge.) That is, she was obliged to be out a great deal, night and day, and in consequence thereof, Charity Beadle had slandered her, and completely ruined her reputation, and broken up her business to the damage of ten dollars.
Bates told the court that he had "no jurisdiction in an action of slander."
Longbow advised Bates not to repeat the remark, as "that was a kind of contempt."