made in her behalf.

CHAPTER XX

"THE PENALTY IS DEATH!"

When court convened the following morning for the last act in the
prolonged drama of Joe Newbolt's trial, the room was crowded even beyond
the congestion of the previous day.

People felt that Sam Lucas was not through with the accused lad yet;
they wanted to be present for the final and complete crucifixion. It was
generally believed that, under the strain of Lucas's bombardment, Joe
would break down that day.

The interference of Alice Price, unwarranted and beyond reason, the
public said, had given the accused a respite, but nothing more. Whatever
mistaken notion she had in doing it was beyond them, for it was
inconceivable that she could be wiser than another, and discover virtues
in the accused that older and wiser heads had overlooked. Well, after
the rebuke that Judge Maxwell had given her, _she_ wouldn't meddle again
soon. It was more than anybody expected to see her in court again. No,
indeed, they said; that would just about settle _her_.

Such a fine girl, too, and such a blow to her father. It was a piece of
forwardness that went beyond the imagination of anybody in the town.
Could it be that Alice Price had become tainted with socialism or
woman's rights, or any of those wild theories which roared around the
wide world outside Shelbyville and created such commotion and unrest?
Maybe some of those German doctrines had got into her head, such as that
young Professor Gobel, whom the regents discharged from the college
faculty last winter, used to teach.

It was too bad; nearly everybody regretted it, for it took a girl a long
time to live down a thing like that in Shelbyville. But the greatest
shock and disappointment of all was, although nobody would admit it,
that she had shut Joe's mouth on the very thing that the public ear was
itching to hear. She had cheated the public of its due, and taken the
food out of its mouth when it was ravenous. That was past forgiveness.

Dark conjectures were hatched, therefore, and scandalous hints were set
traveling. Mothers said, well, they thanked their stars that she hadn't
married _their_ sons; and fathers philosophized that you never could
tell how a filly would turn out till you put the saddle on her and tried
her on the road. And the public sighed and gasped and shook its head,
and was comfortably shocked and satisfyingly scandalized.

The sheriff brought the prisoner into court that morning