"I can say all I've got to say standing; it ain't much, but it's to the point."
Mrs. Champney removed her glasses and swung them leisurely back and forth on their gold chain. "Well, to the point, then."
He felt the challenge implied in her words and accepted it.
"I've served this estate pretty faithful for hard on to thirty-seven years. I've served the Judge, and I've served his son, and now I'm going to work to save the man that's named for that son—"
Mrs. Champney interrupted him sharply, decisively.
"That will do, Octavius. There is no occasion for you to tell me this; I knew from the first you would champion his cause—no matter how bad a one. We'll drop the subject; you must be aware it is not a particularly pleasant one to me."
Octavius winced. Mrs. Champney smiled at the effect of her words; but he ignored her remark.
"I like to see fair play, Mrs. Champney, and I've seen some things here in Champo since the old Judge died that's gone against me. Right's right and wrong's wrong, and I've stood by and kept still when I'd ought to have spoken; perhaps 't would have been better for us all if I had—and I'm including Champney Googe. When his father died—" Mrs. Champney started, leaned forward in her chair, her hands tightly grasping the arms.
"His father—" she caught up her words, pressed her thin lips more closely together, and leaned back again in her chair. Octavius looked at her in amazement.
"Yes," he repeated, "his father, Warren Googe; who else should I mean?"