“That I’m sure he didn’t,” said Moulder. “Why it was the way he gave his evidence that brought her off.”
“It wasn’t my wish to bring her off,” said Kenneby; “nor was it my wish to make her guilty. All I wanted was to tell the truth and do my duty. But it was no use. I believe it never is any use.”
“I think you did very well,” said Moulder.
“I’m sure Lady Mason ought to be very much obliged to you,” said Kantwise.
“Nobody needn’t care for what’s said to them in a court,” said Snengkeld. “I remember when once they wanted to make out that I’d taken a parcel of teas—”
“Stolen, you mean, sir,” suggested Mrs. Smiley.
“Yes; stolen. But it was only done by the opposite side in court, and I didn’t think a halfporth of it. They knew where the teas was well enough.”
“Speaking for myself,” said Kenneby, “I must say I don’t like it.”
“But the paper as we signed,” said Bridget, “wasn’t the old gentleman’s will—no more than this is;” and she lifted up her apron. “I’m rightly sure of that.”
Then again the battle raged hot and furious, and Moulder became angry with his guest, Bridget Bolster. Kantwise finding himself supported in his views by the principal witness at the trial took heart against the tyranny of Moulder and expressed his opinion, while Mrs. Smiley, with a woman’s customary dislike to another woman, sneered ill-naturedly at the idea of Lady Mason’s innocence. Poor Kenneby had been forced to take the middle seat on the sofa between his bride and sister; but it did not appear that the honour of his position had any effect in lessening his gloom or mitigating the severity of the judgment which had been passed on him.
“Wasn’t the old gentleman’s will!” said Moulder, turning on poor Bridget in his anger with a growl. “But I say it was the old gentleman’s will. You never dared say as much as that in court.”
“I wasn’t asked,” said Bridget.
“You weren’t asked! Yes, you was asked often enough.”
“I’ll tell you what it is,” said Kantwise, “Mrs. Bolster’s right in what she says as sure as your name’s Moulder.”
“Then as sure as my name’s Moulder she’s wrong. I suppose we’re to think that a chap like you knows more about it than the jury! We all know who your friend is in the matter. I haven’t forgot our dinner at Leeds, nor shan’t in a hurry.”
“Now, John,” said Mrs. Smiley, “nobody can know the truth of this so well as you do. You’ve been as close as wax, as was all right till the lady was out of her troubles. That’s done and over, and let us hear among friends how the matter really was.” And then there was silence among them in order that his words might come forth freely.
“Come, my dear,” said Mrs. Smiley with a tone of encouraging love. “There can’t be any harm now; can there?”
“Out with it, John,” said Moulder. “You’re honest, anyways.”
“There ain’t no gammon about you,” said Snengkeld.
“Mr. Kenneby can speak if he likes, no doubt,” said Kantwise; “though maybe it mayn’t be very pleasant to him to do so after all that’s come and gone.”
“There’s nothing that’s come and gone that need make our John hold his tongue,” said Mrs. Moulder. “He mayn’t be just as bright as some of those lawyers, but he’s a deal more truehearted.”
“But he can’t say as how it was the old gentleman’s will as we signed. I’m well assured of that,” said Bridget.
But Kenneby, though thus called upon by the united strength of the company to solve all their doubts, still remained silent. “Come, lovey,” said Mrs. Smiley, putting forth her hand and giving his arm a tender squeeze.
“If you’ve anything to say to clear that woman’s character,” said Moulder, “you owe it to society to say it; because she is a woman, and because her enemies is villains.” And then again there was silence while they waited for him.
“I think it will go with him to his grave,” said Mrs. Smiley, very solemnly.
“I shouldn’t wonder,” said Snengkeld.
“Then he must give up all idea of taking a wife,” said Moulder.
“He won’t do that I’m sure,” said Mrs. Smiley.
“That he won’t. Will you, John?” said his sister.
“There’s no knowing what may happen to me in this world,” said Kenneby, “but sometimes I almost think I ain’t fit to live in it, along with anybody else.”
“You’ll make him fit, won’t you, my dear?” said Mrs. Moulder.
“I don’t exactly know what to say about it,” said Mrs. Smiley. “If Mr. Kenneby ain’t willing, I’m not the woman to bind him to his word, because I’ve had his promise over and over again, and could prove it by a number of witnesses before any jury in the land. I’m an independent woman as needn’t be beholden to any man, and I should never think of damages. Smiley left me comfortable before all the world, and I don’t know but what I’m a fool to think of changing. Anyways if Mr. Kenneby—”
“Come, John. Why don’t you speak to her?” said Mrs. Moulder.
“And what am I to say?” said Kenneby, thrusting himself forth from between the ample folds of the two ladies’ dresses. “I’m a blighted man; one on whom the finger of scorn has been pointed. His lordship said that I was—stupid; and perhaps I am.”
“She don’t think nothing of that, John.”
“Certainly not,” said Mrs. Smiley.
“As long as a man can pay twenty shillings in the pound and a trifle over, what does it matter if all the judges in the land was to call him stupid?” said Snengkeld.
“Stupid is as stupid does,” said Kantwise.
“Stupid be d⸺,” said Moulder.
“Mr. Moulder, there’s ladies present,” said Mrs. Smiley.
“Come, John, rouse yourself a bit,” said his sister. “Nobody here thinks the worse of you for what the judge said.”
“Certainly not,” said Mrs. Smiley. “And as it becomes me to speak, I’ll say my mind.
