egetable, Susanna?"

In an instant she withdrew herself, her soul, her ego, so utterly that
I felt myself gazing at an inscrutable stone image, as she replied, "I
couldna say, mam."

This was too much! Her mother may have been frightened, very badly
frightened, but this was more than I could endure without protest. The
plain boiled potato is practically universal. It is not only common to
all temperate climates, but it has permeated all classes of society. I
am confident that the plain boiled potato has been one of the chief
constituents in the building up of that frame in which Susanna Crum
conceals her opinions and emotions. I remarked, therefore, as an
apparent afterthought, "Why, it is a potato, is it not, Susanna?"

What do you think she replied, when thus hunted into a corner, pushed
against a wall, driven to the very confines of her personal and
national liberty? She subjected the potato to a second careful
scrutiny, and answered, "I wouldna say it's no!"

Now there is no inherited physical terror in this. It is the
concentrated essence of intelligent reserve, caution, and obstinacy;
it is a conscious intellectual hedging; it is a dogged and determined
attempt to build up barriers of defense between the questioner and the
questionee: it must be, therefore, the offspring of the catechism and
the heresy trial.

Once again, after establishing an equally obvious fact, I succeeded in
wringing from her the reluctant admission, "It depends," but she was
so shattered by the bulk and force of this outgo, so fearful that in
some way she had imperiled her life or reputation, so anxious
concerning the effect that her unwilling testimony might have upon
unborn generations, that she was of no real service the rest of the
day.

I wish that the Lord Advocate, or some modern counterpart of
Braxfield, the hanging judge, would summon Susanna Crum as a witness
in an important case. He would need his longest plummet to sound the
depths of her consciousness.

I have had no legal experience, but I can imagine the scene.

"Is the prisoner your father, Susanna Crum?"

"I couldna say, my lord."

"You have not understood the question, Susanna. Is the prisoner your
father?"

"I couldna say, my lord."

"Come, come, my girl! you must answer the questions put you by the
court. You have been an inmate of the prisoner's household since your
earliest consciousness. He provided you with food, lodging, and
clothing during your infa