But just what there was to fight it out on, not one of them could for the life of him suggest.
The minutes, which seemed like hours, dragged wearily on, and the air in the stuffy little court-house seemed to grow denser and more unendurably stifling. One o’clock. Two o’clock. The hum of returning villagers became more loud. The hour for the resumption of the session was only thirty minutes away.
Suddenly there was the sound of light, quick, nervous footsteps along the hallway, the door was pushed open, and in there bounced a little old lady, whose thin face beamed and flushed with excitement under a bonnet, fashionably but rather youthfully trimmed with bright flowers, dressed in a gown quaintly cut, but giving evidence of the means of the wearer, and bearing on one arm a small basket and in the other hand a chatelaine-bag.
“Why, it’s Mrs. Newcome!” exclaimed Mrs. Warren, jumping up excitedly, and glad even of this interruption. “What can have brought you here?”
“Isn’t this a wicked shame!” cried the little old lady, paying no attention to Mrs. Warren’s question. “It’s just the cruellest thing I ever heard of, bringing these boys here. I’ll tell the judge that, too, if they’ll let me. Where is that old scamp, Colonel Witham, and that old mischief-maker, Squire Brackett? If I don’t give them a piece of my mind! I told Jerry about it all the way over, and you ought to have heard him growl. Here he is; just listen how angry he is.”
And Mrs. Newcome, unfastening the cover of the basket which she had been carrying, disclosed to view the aforesaid Jerry, lying within on a cushion. The cat, in corroboration of his mistress’s declaration, certainly did growl and snarl and then yowl dolorously; but whether as an endorsement of old Mrs. Newcome’s indignation, or whether giving vent to his own at being whisked about in a basket on a boiling hot day, no one but he could say positively.
“These boys didn’t set that fire,” snapped the old lady, decisively; “and I just want to do what I can for them. I couldn’t leave Jerry behind. He gets so lonesome without me. So I brought him along. And now, Mr. Warren, I suppose you know I’m not the poorest person that comes down here to spend summers, and I’ve got some property around these parts, too—some land in this very town. And if there’s any what-do-you-call-it to pay—”
“Any bail?” suggested the squire.
“That’s it—bail. That’s the word. If there’s any of that to pay, I’ve got the securities right here,” and Mrs. Newcome shook the chatelaine-bag vigorously.
“You are very kind,” said Mr. Warren, amused in spite of himself. “But I’m hoping we shall not have need of bail.”