"Oh, no you won't. You are too just to do that. You have made certain charges against my grandfather; now, the only fair thing, is to give him a show—to let him state his case, from his side."
"No. He wouldn't tell the truth. He falsified once. He'd falsify again."
"You haven't proved it."
"You have my word."
"Your word is all very well, as far as it goes. But even you would hardly claim that it goes all the way 'round the truth, and then tucks under, like Dick's hatband. My grandfather has a word too, and I'm going to see that he has a chance to get it in edgewise, and—what's more, that you listen."
Madam Crewe turned her body stiffly toward Katherine.
"Come here. Sit down!" she commanded autocratically.
Dr. Ballard took up his book, opening it at an obviously marked point.
"The first entry bearing any reference to you or yours was written in 1844. In the spring of that year he mentions going to see one Squire Stryker, in connection with the stewardship of his estate. I'll skip all the non-essentials and——"
"Skip nothing. Since you will read, read!"