Perceedin, says I: “Mistur Court, I am the lawful wife of Jobe Gaskins, the man you are asked to foreclose and turn out of the home he has tried hard to hold. We are old people. We are poor. Times are hard and money is scarce, and, bein called here without our choosin, we came without money to pay anything toward the support of the ‘bar’ the lawyer spoke about.
“All we ask, Mistur Court, is to be heard. We want to save our old home if we can do so. All I ask is, if there is any speakin that can be done to persuade you that we hadent ort to be turned out, that you let me do that speakin, because I feel that I can tell you what we would suffer, and why we hadent ort to be turned out, as honestly and as earnestly as any lawyer could who was talkin for only a few dollars pay.
“God knows, Mistur Court, that what I shall say to you will not be prompted by a few dollars, but by the love I have for the roof that has sheltered us, for the fire that has warmed us, and those things about the place that has caused a lump to come up in my throat whenever I think we may soon have to leave them forever, or when I wonder where we would go if you say, Mistur Court, that we must be foreclosed.
“I know I am a woman—a old woman. I haint a regular lawyer, but I ask to do the speakin in this case, because we haint the money to pay any of these regular lawyers to do it, and God knows we have always tried to pay for everything we have ever got or had done for us.”
I sot down.
The judge set a studyin; finally says he:
“Mr. Sheriff, adjourn court until 1:30 o’clock p.m.”
And that is where the lawsuit is at this hour. I am waitin to see if I will be allowed to speak. Yours at court.
