“Excuse haste,” he said, tossing his hat and gloves on a chair. “I’m back. Say, gee whiz, everybody in town is out on Clay Street, Aunt Serepty. Lots of them down this way, strolling past—” “What are people saying, Sammy?” she broke in, grasping his arm. “Well,” he began, after a moment’s hesitation, “there’s a good deal of talk—but let’s go in where the others are.” Lizzie Meggs followed them into the sitting-room, nervously twisting her hard and capable fingers. “Much excitement downtown, Sammy?” inquired Oliver, arising. “The streets are crowded. Not much excitement, however. Everybody seems to be sort of knocked silly.” “What are they saying?” demanded Judge Shortridge. “Well, I hate to tell you, but as far as I can make out, Judge, there seems to be a general feeling that—that Oliver did it,” said Sammy, wiping his moist forehead with the back of a hand that shook slightly. “Snap judgment,” said the lawyer, after silence had reigned for a few seconds. “That is always the way with the ignorant and uninformed. Nothing to worry about, Oliver. They will be on your side to-morrow when they understand the situation a little better. It’s always the way with a crowd.” Josephine Sage spread her hands in a gesture of contempt. “‘What fools these mortals be,’” she declaimed theatrically. “But we cannot ignore public opinion,” cried Jane miserably. “It is hard to fight public opinion. Oh, Oliver, I am so—so worried.” “Don’t you worry, Janie,” he said softly, putting his arm about her. “Nothing will come of all this. We will sweep away every suspicion—” “Public opinion changes over night,” said Mr. Sage. “The light of understanding—” “The public!” broke in his wife scornfully. “What is the public? I can tell you, my friends. It is the most fickle thing in all this world. No matter how long, how faithfully you serve the public, it turns upon you in time, like the adder, and stings you to death. It feeds you with praise, it fattens you with applause, it clothes you in garments of gold, and then it strips you clean and leaves you to starve. It turns its back on you and fattens another favorite. You can’t tell me anything about the blooming public. I know it to the core, and I am jolly well fed up with it.” “Bravo!” cried the Judge. “And let me add, Miss Judge, it’s easy to put a ring through the public nose and lead it around in circles.” “Yes, but the thing is,” broke in Mr. Link, “they’re accusing Oliver of murder. If they make up their minds he’s guilty—well, it’ll take a lot of evidence to convince ’em he ain’t.” “My dear man,” said Mrs. Sage, “I was the defendant in the most celebrated murder trial ever known in London.” “Bless my soul, Josephine!” gasped her husband, startled. “And I was sentenced to be hanged by the neck till dead,” she finished in tragic tones. “Mercy!” cried Mrs. Grimes weakly. “My dear wife, have you gone stark, staring mad?”