“For the sake of the fair name of Brampton,” began Mr. Dodd, “we cannot allow—”
“Mr. Dodd,” interrupted the judge, “I would rather have Mr. Worthington's arguments from Mr. Worthington himself, if I wanted them at all. There is no need of prolonging this meeting. If I were to waste my breath until six o'clock, it would be no use. I was about to say that your opinions were formed, but I will alter that, and say that your minds are fixed. You are determined to dismiss Miss Wetherell. Is it not so?”
“I wish you'd hear me, Jedge,” said Mr. Dodd, desperately.
“Will you kindly answer me yes or no to that question,” said the judge; “my time is valuable.”
“Well, if you put it that way, I guess we are agreed that she hadn't ought to stay. Not that I've anything against her personally—”
“All right,” said the judge, with a calmness that made them tremble. They had never bearded him before. “All right, you are two to one and no certificate has been issued. But I tell you this, gentlemen, that you will live to see the day when you will bitterly regret this injustice to an innocent and a noble woman, and Isaac D. Worthington will live to regret it. You may tell him I said so. Good day, gentlemen.”
They rose.
“Jedge,” began Mr. Dodd again, “I don't think you've been quite fair with us.”
“Fair!” repeated the judge, with unutterable scorn. “Good day, gentlemen.” And he slammed the door behind them.
They walked down the street some distance before either of them spoke.