the ease of an
infant, and then immediately regain its immobility and fixed attention.
With Ollie's simple statement a sound rose from it which was a
denunciation and a curse upon the ashes of old Isom Chase. It was as if
a sympathetic old lady had shaken her head and groaned:

"Oh, shame on you--shame!"

Hammer gave the jury a wide-sweeping look of satisfaction, and made a
note on the tumbled pile of paper which lay in front of him.

The prosecutor was a man with congressional aspirations, and he did not
care to prejudice his popularity by going too far in baiting a woman,
especially one who had public sympathy in the measure that it was
plainly extended to Ollie. He eased up, descending from his heights of
severity, and began to address her respectfully in a manner that was
little short of apology for what his stern duty compelled him to do.

"Now I will ask you, Mrs. Chase, whether your husband and this
defendant, Joe Newbolt, ever had words in your hearing?"

"Once," Ollie replied.

"Do you recall the day?"

"It was the morning after Joe came to our house to work," said she.

"Do you remember what the trouble was about and what said?"

"Well, they said a good deal," Ollie answered. "They fussed because Joe
didn't get up when Isom called him."

Joe felt his heart contract. It seemed to him that Ollie need not have
gone into that; it looked as if she was bent not alone on protecting
herself, but on fastening the crime on him. It gave him a feeling of
uneasiness. Sweat came out on his forehead; his palms grew moist. He had
looked for Ollie to stand by him at least, and now she seemed running
away, eager to tell something that would sound to his discredit.

"You may tell the jury what happened that morning, Mrs. Chase."

Hammer's objection fell on barren ground, and Ollie told the story under
the directions of the judge.

"You say there was a sound of scuffling after Isom called him?" asked
the prosecutor.

"Yes, it sounded like Isom shook him and Joe jumped out of bed."

"And what did Joe Newbolt say?"

"He said, 'Put that down! I warned you never to lift your hand against
me. If you hit me, I'll kill you in your tracks!'"

"That's what you heard Joe Newbolt say to your husband up there in the
loft over your head?"

The prosecutor was eager. He leaned forward, both hands on the table,
and looked at her almost hungrily. The jurymen shuffled their feet and
sat up in their chairs with renewed interes