on's Calendar

The weeks dragged along, no friend visiting the jailed twins but their
counsel and Aunt Patsy Cooper, and the day of trial came at last--the
heaviest day in Wilson's life; for with all his tireless diligence he had
discovered no sign or trace of the missing confederate. "Confederate"
was the term he had long ago privately accepted for that person--not as
being unquestionably the right term, but as being the least possibly the
right one, though he was never able to understand why the twins did not
vanish and escape, as the confederate had done, instead of remaining by
the murdered man and getting caught there.

The courthouse was crowded, of course, and would remain so to the finish,
for not only in the town itself, but in the country for miles around, the
trial was the one topic of conversation among the people. Mrs. Pratt, in
deep mourning, and Tom with a weed on his hat, had seats near Pembroke
Howard, the public prosecutor, and back of them sat a great array of
friends of the family. The twins had but one friend present to keep
their counsel in countenance, their poor old sorrowing landlady. She sat
near Wilson, and looked her friendliest. In the "nigger corner" sat
Chambers; also Roxy, with good clothes on, and her bill of sale in her
pocket. It was her most precious possession, and she never parted with
it, day or night. Tom had allowed her thirty-five dollars a month ever
since he came into his property, and had said that he and she ought to be
grateful to the twins for making them rich; but had roused such a temper
in her by this speech that he did not repeat the argument afterward. She
said the old judge had treated her child a thousand times better than he
deserved, and had never done her an unkindness in his life; so she hated
these outlandish devils for killing him, and shouldn't ever sleep
satisfied till she saw them hanged for it. She was here to watch the
trial now, and was going to lift up just one "hooraw" over it if the
county judge put her in jail a year for it. She gave her turbaned head a
toss and said, "When dat verdic' comes, I's gwine to lif' dat ROOF, now,
I TELL you."

Pembroke Howard briefly sketched the state's case. He said he would show
by a chain of circumstantial evidence without break or fault in it
anywhere, that the principal prisoner at the bar committed the murder;
that the motive was partly revenge, and partly a desire to take his own
life out of jeopardy, and