“Now,” said she, “this is no formal proceeding and we will dispense with red tape. If we don’t, I shall get all tangled up in it. Where’s Mr. Irwin? Please come in here, Jim. Now, I know there’s some feeling in these things—there always seems to be; but I have none. So I’ll just hear why Mr. Bronson, Mr. Peterson and Mr. Bonner think that Mr. James E. Irwin isn’t competent to hold a certificate.”
Jennie was able to smile at them now, and everybody felt more at ease, save Jim Irwin, the members of the board and Wilbur Smythe. That individual arose, and talked down at Jennie.
“I appear for the proponents here,” said he, “and I desire to suggest certain principles of procedure which I take it belong indisputably to the conduct of this hearing.”
“Have you a lawyer?” asked the county superintendent of the respondent.
“A what?” exclaimed Jim. “Nobody here has a lawyer!”
“Well, what do you call Wilbur Smythe?” queried Newton Bronson from the midst of the crowd.
“He ain’t lawyer enough to hurt!” said the thing which the dramatists call A Voice.
There was a little tempest of laughter at Wilbur Smythe’s expense, which was quelled by Jennie’s rapping on the table. She was beginning to feel the mouth of the situation.
“I have no way of retaining a lawyer,” said Jim, on whom the truth had gradually dawned. “If a lawyer is necessary, I am without protection—but it never occurred to me ...”
“There is nothing in the school laws, as I remember them,” said Jennie, “giving the parties any right to be represented by counsel. If there is, Mr. Smythe will please set me right.”