“And what did Mr. Still say?”
“He say he could too.” The crowd laughed.
“And he nailed the picture up securely?”
“Yas, suh. I holped him. Marster sont me to teck Marse Rupert out, cuz he wuz dabblin’ he little byah foots in de paint on de hearth, trackin’ up de flo’, an’ had done step’pon one o’ de barns whar blow’ down, an’ mark it up; an’ he tell me when I come back to bring hammer an’ nails to nail de picture up, an’ so I done.”
Still was again squeezing his counsel’s arm painfully, whispering him to stop the witness. But Leech had to ask one more question.
“You brought the nails and nailed it up?”
“Yes, suh, me an’ Mr. Still. An’ Marse Rupert he come back, and Mr. Jack dyah wid him, an’ say he gwine help too. He wuz always pesterin’ roun’, dem days.” This in pleasant reminiscence to the crowd.
“You can stand aside,” said Leech, contemptuously. He gave a sigh of relief, and Doan was turning slowly to go.
“Hold on.” Steve’s deep voice broke in. Jacquelin was whispering to him eagerly. A new light had come into his eyes, and he was scanning Still’s white face, on which the beads of sweat had stood during the whole examination. Steve, still listening to Jacquelin’s rapid speech, rose slowly to get the bond lying on the bar. Before he could reach it however, McRaffle, one of the counsel associated with Leech, partly resenting the neglect of himself and wishing to earn his fee, leant forward. He would, at least, ask one question.
“You nailed it up securely, and that was the last time it fell.” He spoke rather in affirmation than question.