"Went to look at the vegetable garden, then into the grove--not by that path though: he went into it at a place beyond the garden, where our brook goes under the trees. We were watching that brook on account of the drouth." "When did you next see him?" "A few minutes later. He came out of the woods, by the path that time, stumbled, shouted to me. I dropped the beans and went to him. I saw his clothes were wringin' wet, and he looked awful white. I helped him into the shade on the back porch. He talked kind of--" "Just the substance of the conversation, please. That is, if he explained what had happened to upset him--did he?" "Not--not to say explain, exactly. He said--" "I think we'll just omit the conversation and go on to what you did next. Just what you did, you understand. After helping him into the shade, what did you yourself do?" Clearly the biddy was already giving T. J. Hunter a case of jitters. Cecil Warner's crooked half-smile underlined the fact for Edith. Would he now be able to bring out poor Herb's first addled words, whatever they were, in cross examination? Would they help, if he did? And if he testified for the defense, what would Herb himself do about them? Last night Cecil had said, into the bright depth of his second Martini: "First law of the courtroom: never count on a jury's respecting logic." "Well, sir, I went to the pond. His clothes wet, I knew it--" "Just what you did, not what you thought. You went to the pond--wait a minute. We'll go back a little at this point, Miss Welsh. You were well acquainted with Ann Doherty--Mrs. James Doherty?" "Well, I sh'd hope--I'm sorry, sir. Yes, I was." "When did you first meet her?" "In 1956. They moved in that year. Good neighbors, her anyway." Edith saw the Old Man rising, and steady too, monumental. "May it please the Court, the defense is not concerned with the character of James Doherty, but I object in principle to that kind of innuendo." "Sustained." The Judge's voice was cool. "The witness's last remark beginning with the words 'good neighbors' will be stricken." Edith relaxed, aware of the primitive quality of her gratification: one for our side. Not that Jim belonged to the defense--Jim was lost, or trapped. All the same, the defense had spoken. She also recalled unhappily other words Cecil had spoken to that Martini: "Why did I order that thing? I was going to make it wine. Will you slap my fat wrist if I do it again?" He had made it wine, at the studio, and gone home sober. After, of all things, kissing her hand. "Miss Welsh, was your relation to Mrs. Doherty one of close acquaintance? Casual? Just what was it?" "Kind of close. We'd--oh, visit back and forth." "When was the last time you saw Mrs. Doherty alive?" "Two days before--I mean Saturday, August 15th. She came over for some bacon. She'd forgot it in shopping." "Did you, for instance, call each other by your first names?" "Ayah, did, matter of fact. I'm a mite old-fashioned, but we did."