“In the first place,” said Wickliff, assuming an easy attitude, with one hand in a pocket and the other free for oratorical display, “I’ll call Miss Beaumont, Miss Henriette Beaumont, for the defence.” Miss Beaumont responded to the call, and turned a defiant stare on the amateur attorney. “You say you were disturbed by the Armstrongs’ organ?” “I was painfully disturbed.” “Naturally you informed your neighbors, and asked them to desist playing the organ?” “I did.” “How many times?” “Once.” “To whom did you speak?” “I told the boys to tell their mother.” “Are you passionately fond of music?” “I am.” “Are you sensitive to bad music—acutely sensitive?” “I suppose I am; a lover of music is, of necessity.” The magistrate nodded and sighed. “Are you of a particularly patient and forbearing disposition?” Henriette directed a withering glance at the tall figure of the questioner. “I am forbearing enough,” she answered. “Do I need to answer questions that are plainly put to insult me?” “No, madam,” said the magistrate. “Mr. Wickliff, I rules dot question out.” Nothing daunted, Wickliff continued: “When you gave the boys warning, where were they?” “In my house.” “How came they there?” “They had brought over a bucket of water.” “Why?” “Because we had only well-water, they said.” “That was rather kind on the part of Mrs. Armstrong, don’t you think? In every respect, besides playing the organ, she was a kind neighbor, wasn’t she?” “I don’t complain of her.” “Wasn’t she rather noted in the neighborhood as a lady of great kindness? Didn’t she often send in little delicacies—flowers, fruit, and such things—gifts that often pass between neighbors to different people?” “She may have. I am not acquainted with her.” “Hasn’t she sent in things at different times to _you_?” Henriette’s throat began to form the word no; then she remembered the shortcake, she remembered the roses, she remembered her oath, and she choked. “I don’t know much about it; perhaps she may have,” said she. “That will do,” said Wickliff. “Call Miss Mysilla Beaumont.” Wickliff’s respectful bearing reassured the agitated spinster. He wouldn’t detain her a moment. He only wanted to know had neighborly courtesies passed between the two houses. Yes? Had Mrs. Armstrong been a kind and unobtrusive neighbor? “Oh yes, sir; yes, indeed,” cried poor Mysie. “Were you yourself much disturbed by the organ?” “No, sir,” gasped Mysie, with one tragic glance at her sister’s stony features. She knew now what Jeanie Deans must have suffered. “That will do,” said Wickliff.