“Erica always was the plucky one,” said Tom to his mother as they watched her enter the witness box. “She always did the confessing when we got into scrapes. I only hope that brute of a Cringer won't put her out of countenance.” He need not have feared, though in truth Erica was tried to the utmost. To begin with, it was one of the very hottest of the dog-days, and the court was crowded to suffocation. This was what the public considered the most interesting day of the trial for it was the most personal one, and the English have as great a taste for personalities as the Americans though it is not so constantly gratified. Apparently Mr. Cringer, being a shrewd man, had managed in the night watches to calculate Erica's one vulnerable point. She was fatally clear-headed; most aggravatingly and palpably truthful; most unfortunately fascinating; and, though naturally quick-tempered, most annoyingly self-controlled. But she was evidently delicate. If he could sufficiently harass and tire her, he might make her say pretty much what he pleased. This, at least, was the conclusion at which he had arrived. And if it was indeed his duty to the defendant to exhaust both fair means and foul in the endeavor to win him his case, then he certainly fulfilled his duty. For six long hours, with only a brief interval for luncheon, Erica was baited, badgered, tormented with questions which in themselves were insults, assured that she had said what she had not said, tempted to say what she did not mean, involved in fruitless discussions about places and dates and, in fact, so thoroughly tortured, that most girls would long before have succumbed. She did not succumb, but she grew whiter and whiter save when some vile insinuation brought a momentary wave of crimson across her face. Tom listened breathlessly to the examination which went on in a constant crescendo of bitterness. “The plaintiff was in the habit of doing this?” “Yes.” “Your suspicion was naturally excited, then?” “Certainly not.” “Not excited?” incredulously. “Not in the least.” “You are an inmate of the plaintiff's house, I believe?” “I am.” “But this has not always been the case?” “All my life with the exception of two years.” “Your reason for the two years' absence had a connection with the plaintiff's mode of life, had it not?” “Not in the sense you wish to imply. It had a connection with our extreme poverty.” “Though an inmate of you father's house, you are often away from home?” “No, very rarely.” “Oblige me by giving a straightforward answer. What do you mean by rarely?” “Very seldom.” “This is mere equivocation; will you give me a straightforward reply?” “I can't make it more so,” said Erica, keeping her temper perfectly and replying to the nagging interrogatories. “Do you mean once a year, twice a year?” etc., etc., with a steady patience which foiled Mr. Cringer effectually. He opened a fresh subject. “Do you remember the 1st of September last year?” “I do.”