“He looks as if he might kill a man, lame as he is,” one of the bystanders whispered, and Daniel heard it. “I don’t know that we can get an indictment for manslaughter, Dan,” said the judge, in his ear. “Seems to me it’ll be murder, but there’s no telling with that jury.” Daniel, thinking of Leigh’s boyish face and girlish eyes, set his teeth very hard. At that moment he had no feeling of pity for Fanchon. “When a man gets married the way William did,” remarked the judge, “it’s mighty like putting your hand into a grab-bag at a church fair. You’re not going to get anything useful out of it.” Daniel said nothing. They crossed the square and ascended the court-house steps half an hour before the time set for the grand jury. Meanwhile, Mr. Carter came down to Judge Jessup’s office and collapsed there. He had intended to go on to the court-house, but he could not. He sat down limply in the judge’s chair with one hand on the telephone, waiting to be called. He had passed a terrible night. Mrs. Carter had indulged in the only fit of hysterics she had ever had in her life, and her husband had thought, at first, that it was apoplexy. He had summoned Dr. Barbour, rousing the good man from his bed, and had caught a lecture for it. “Never seen a woman in hysterics before?” the doctor asked fiercely. “Put her feet in hot mustard water. I reckon that when you see a real fit you’ll turn in the fire-alarm!” But he was unable to eradicate Mr. Carter’s first impressions. Thinking it over now, he shook his head. “Never saw her like that in her life before,” he reflected. “Had seven children and lost three--and never threw a fit before! If Leigh----” He stopped at that; he couldn’t go any further. He rose and pulled off his coat and unbuttoned his collar. He felt that the heat--it was only an ordinary summer day--was intolerably oppressive. Then he took down the telephone receiver absently, and had to assure central that he didn’t want anything. “Knocked it off by accident,” he explained mendaciously. But the incident embarrassed him, and he collapsed into the chair again and fanned himself with his hat. Then the telephone-bell rang sharply in his ear, and he seized the receiver. A tremulous young voice called: “Is Judge Jessup there?” “No, the judge has gone over to the court-house. This is Mr. Carter--Johnson Carter.” “Oh, papa!” It was Emily, and he could almost feel her tears through the instrument. “Mama thought you might be at the judge’s office. Got any news about Leigh?” “Not yet!” Mr. Carter was hoarse, but he cleared his throat. “How’s mama?” “She’s all right; she’s just taken peppermint tea. Papa, I’ve got something to tell you.” Her voice seemed to die away, but he heard her blowing her nose. “What is it, Emmy?” “F-Fanchon’s going--she’s got the expressman here for her trunks.” “Glad of it!” said Mr. Carter dryly. “If she wants a taxi, I’ll send it.” “Oh, papa!” “Yes?”