The Judge looked helplessly about him.
The jam on the staircase, in the hall, and in the study took up the cry, “Speech! Speech!”
The Judge, brought to bay, turned rebukingly to Mrs. Everest. “Speech! Speech! but what shall I speechify about?”
“Why, about this trouble—about your loss and—”
“Speak louder, I beg,” exclaimed the Judge, putting his hand behind his ear and bending down to catch her words. “There is such a roaring that I can’t hear.”
She put up her lips, and in a clear, flutelike voice called out to him, “Exhort them to love their homes and families, to keep them pure, to protect their children. I think you’ll do best on general lines. Don’t make personal references.”
The Judge set his face. “I see,” he said, firmly, “that is some kind of a complimentary demonstration, but I am not the kind of man to talk about a thing I do not understand. Tell me in a few words what all this means.”
Berty stared at him in amazement. “Has no one told you?” she vociferated.
He shook his head. “No one.”
“Kidnapers tried to steal Bethany,” she cried. “We rescued her. The people are glad.”