it, it
shan't cost you anything; and by bringing a civil suit as well, you'll
probably get some money out of it."

Blackett gave his assent. So too did Patrick Milligan, and "Moike"
Dooley. They had won fame already by the deaths and wakes, but a "coort
case" promised to give them prestige far beyond what even these
distinctions conferred. So the three walked away proudly with Peter, and
warrants were sworn to and issued against the "boss" as principal, and
the driver and the three others as witnesses, made returnable on the
following morning. On many a doorstep of the district, that night,
nothing else was talked of, and the trio were the most envied men in the
neighborhood. Even Mrs. Blackett and Ellen Milligan forgot their grief,
and held a joint _soiree_ on their front stoop.

"Shure, it's mighty hard for Mrs. Dooley, that she's away!" said one.
"She'll be feeling bad when she knows what she's missed."

The next morning, Peter, the two doctors, the Blacketts, the Milligans,
Dooley, the milk quintet, and as many inhabitants of the "district" as
could crush their way in, were in court by nine o'clock. The plaintiffs
and their friends were rather disappointed at the quietness of the
proceedings. The examinations were purely formal except in one instance,
when Peter asked for the "name or names of the owner or owners" of the
National Milk Company. Here the defendant's attorney, a shrewd criminal
lawyer, interfered, and there was a sharp passage at arms, in which an
attempt was made to anger Peter. But he kept his head, and in the end
carried his point. The owner turned out to be the proprietor of the
brewery, as Peter had surmised, who thus utilized the mash from his vats
in feeding cattle. But on Peter's asking for an additional warrant
against him, the defendant's lawyer succeeded in proving, if the
statement of the overseer proved it, that the brewer was quite ignorant
that the milk sold in the "district" was what had been unsalable the day
before to better customers, and that the skimming and doctoring of it
was unknown to him. So an attempt to punish the rich man as a criminal
was futile. He could afford to pay for straw men.

"Arrah!" said Dooley to Peter as they passed out of the court, "Oi think
ye moight have given them a bit av yer moind."

"Wait till the trial," said Peter. "We mustn't use up our powder on the
skirmish line."

So the word was passed through the district that "theer'd be fun at the
ral