"It's that disgustin' Joe!" interjected Mr. Shrimplin from his corner, advancing his hooked nose from the shadows. "Don't take up the judge's time, Nellie; time's money, and money's as infrequent as a white crow."
And then suddenly and painfully conscious of his verbal forwardness, the little lamplighter sank back into the grateful gloom of his corner and was mute.
"It's my man, Judge—" said Nellie.
And the judge nodded comprehendingly.
"I don't know how me and my children are to live through the winter, I declare I don't, Judge, unless he gives me a little help!"
"And the winter ain't fairly here yet, and it's got a long belly when it does come!" said Mr. Shrimplin.
Immediately the little man was conscious of the impropriety of his language. He realized that the happy and forcefully expressed philosophy with which he sought to open Custer's mind to the practical truths of life, was a jarring note in the judge's library.
"Joe's acting scandalous, Judge, just scandalous!" said Nellie with sudden shrill energy. "That man would take the soul out of a saint with his carryings-on!"
"It seems to me there is nothing new in this," observed the judge a little impatiently. "Is he under arrest?"
"No, Judge, he ain't under arrest—" began Nellie.