“Certainly,” said the judge, pleasantly. “Mr. Sheriff, take the prisoner to the Grand Jury room, so that he may consult with his counsel.” The sheriff locked the prisoner and the lawyer in the Grand Jury room, and left his deputy there to open the door when Mr. Terrell announced that the conference was over. In the mean time the court proceeded with other business. Cases were settled, dismissed, or postponed. A couple of young lawyers fell into a tumultuous wrangle over an immaterial point, which the judge disposed of with a wave of his hand. In the Grand Jury room Ananias was telling his volunteer counsel a strange tale. IV. “And do you mean to tell me that you really stole these things from Jones?” said Mr. Terrell, after he had talked a little with his client. “Well, suh,” replied Ananias, unabashed, “I didn’t zackly steal um, suh, but I tuck um; I des tuck um, suh.” “What call had you to steal from Jones? Weren’t you working for Colonel Flewellen? Didn’t he feed you?” inquired the lawyer. Ananias shifted about from one foot to the other, and whipped his legs with his shabby hat, which he held in his hand. Lawyer Terrell, seated in a comfortable chair, and thoroughly at his ease, regarded the negro curiously. There appeared to be a pathetic element even in Ananias’s manner. “Well, suh,” he said, after a while, seeing that he could not escape from the confession, “ef I hadn’t a-tuck dem things fum Marse Wash Jones, my Marster en my young mistiss would ’a’ sot dar en bodaciously starve deyse’f ter deff. I done seed dat, suh. Dey wuz too proud ter tell folks dey wuz dat bad off, suh, en dey’d ’a sot dar, en des bodaciously starve deyse’f ter deff, suh. All dey lifetime, suh, dey bin use ter havin’ deir vittles put right on de table whar dey kin git it, en w’en de farmin’ days done gone, suh, dey wa’n’t nobody but Ananias fer put de vittles dar; en I des hatter scuffle ’roun’ en git it de bes’ way I kin. I ’spec’, suh,” Ananias went on, his countenance brightening up a little, “dat ef de wuss had a-come ter de wuss, I’d ’a’ stole de vittles; but I ’ain’t had ter steal it, suh; I des went en tuck it fum Marse Wash Jones, kaze it come off’n Marster’s lan’, suh.” “Why, the land belongs to Jones,” said Lawyer Terrell. “Dat w’at dey say, suh; but eve’y foot er dat lan’ b’longded ter de Flewellen fambly long ’fo’ Marse Wash Jones’ daddy sot up a hat-shop in de neighborhoods. I dunner how Marse Wash git dat lan’, suh; I know it b’longded in de Flewellen fambly sence ’way back, en dey got deir graveyard dar yit.” Lawyer Terrell’s unusually stern face softened a little. He saw that Ananias was in earnest, and his sympathies were aroused. He had some further conversation with the negro, questioning him in regard to a great many things that assumed importance in the trial.