The transference of Aunt Tildy’s case to her home county was easily effected. Lawyer Thomas was after a verdict in her favor, and perhaps was not unmindful of the advertising feature as concerned himself, and greatly preferred the home atmosphere.
The reappearance of Jack on the scene, therefore, betrayed no evidence of chagrin. On the contrary, his step was a little more elastic, his head held a bit higher, his movements were quicker, and his salutes and greetings full of cheer. Resiliency was written all over him; the sunrise was on his face.
“Now ding blast his imperdunce!” said Broggins one day when Jack, passing on the opposite side of the street, had waved a hand to them joyously and shouted a greeting: “Hello, Tim! Hello, Judge! Major, how are you? See you boys later!”—“ding blast his imperdunce! What’s he got up his sleeve now? Jack! Oh, Jack!” he called lazily.
“What’s the matter, Tim?”
“Got you going some—ain’t they?”
“Not—on—your—life, Tim! Watch me!”
Aunt Tildy’s case, by consent, came up in her own town before a special master appointed by the court.
Long before the hour set for the hearing arrived, people began to appear on the scene. Every wagon-yard, every vacant lot was crowded with vehicles; every horse-rack and hitching-post was in use. There had been great days in town before; Robinson’s old one-ring circus had occasionally depopulated the rural district in its favor, and at another time the political contest between Democrats and Populists and Tom Watson’s impassioned speeches had made it the storm-center of excitement. But no such crowd ever had assembled within the incorporated limits as that which gathered to see Aunt Tildy through in her brave assault on the enemy. The special master had elected to hear the issue in a private office, but indignant public opinion drove him into the court-house and to the bench, where he was soon surrounded by an eager crowd so dense that breathing became difficult despite the fact that all the court-room windows were open.
Drawn by F. R. Gruger Half-tone plate engraved by R. C. Collins