I guess she'd have gone on stringing negatives together as long as the depot would have held 'em, if Bob hadn't noticed Ike Witherspoon, the shorthand reporter, diligently taking down her speech and the names of those present. Then he twigged, and, hastily knocking Bill down, he boarded the train with Amelia. He wired me from Fremont that it was all off with the judgment, as they'd tormented Mrs. Fink into making a public speech. I answered, collect, bidding him be as happy as he could in view of the new-found liberty of speech and of the press, and I'd look after the judgment and the appeal.
"Well," said the Groom, "of course you got licked in the Supreme Court. It was clear proof that she'd been shamming."
"You're about as near right on that as might be expected of a layman," retorted the Colonel. "Just about. The law is the perfection of human reason. The jury had found that Amelia Whinnery couldn't speak, and never would be able to. A jury had rendered a verdict to that effect, and judgment for ten thousand dollars had been entered upon it. I merely pointed out to the Supreme Court that they could consider errors in the record only, and that it was the grossest sort of pettifogging and ignorance of the law for Absalom Scales to come in and introduce such an impertinence as evidence—after the evidence was closed—that the fair plaintiff had been shamming and was, in fact, a very free-spoken lady. The bench saw the overpowering logic of this, and read my authorities, and Bob and Amelia will henceforth live in the best house in their town, built out of the C. & S .W. surplus—and Amelia talking sixteen hours a day. It's locally regarded as a good joke on the railroad."
"But was it honest?" queried the Bride.
"Honest, me lady!" repeated the Colonel, a la Othello. "My dear young lady, the courts are not to be criticized—ever remember that!"
"That makes me think," said the Hired Man, "of the darndest thing—"
"In that case," said the Poet, "your name will be considered drawn for the next number. Save this darndest thing for its own occasion—which will be at our next camp. Oneiros beckons, and I go."
"In that case," said Aconite, "I'd go, you bet!"