Part 22 (2/2)

As Thomas continued she, like her mother, concentrated her attention on her hands folded tight in her lap.

”Why did you leave home three years ago, Miss Buckley?”

”To earn my living, of course,” was the reply, in low, reluctant tones.

”What did you do with your wages?”

Millie hesitated. After taking out barely enough to live on in meager fas.h.i.+on she had sent most of the remainder home, not because either Mrs.

Jones or Bill had asked for help, but because she knew how difficult was their living during the long winter months when their only source of income was Bill's pension and the few mountain people who dropped in when pa.s.sing back and forth and remain overnight and for a meal or so.

Had she known that she was to be called as a witness she might even have refused to accompany Mrs. Jones to court, for Bill's derelictions could never outweigh the knowledge that it was he who had saved her from an orphanage. She swallowed the lump in her throat, but even this did not keep back her tears at the thought that her answer might be the betrayal of the old man who had been a father to her through all the years.

Thomas saw her disinclination and understood the condition of mind which prompted it. He knew he must call his persuasive powers to his aid, so he went very close to the witness-stand, and, leaning over her, spoke in his softest tones.

”I am sorry to have to ask these questions, Miss Buckley, because I know how you dread to testify in this case, but it is unavoidable. Will you answer my question? You sent the greater part of your wages home, did you not?” He spoke as if he, too, were distressed.

Millie, falling into the trap, sighed, ”Yes, sir.”

”And you really left home to earn money in order to help support the Jones family, didn't you?”

Again, overcome by the complications of the situation in which she found herself, she was unable to answer except with a reluctant nod.

”Did you ever see Mrs. Jones's husband drunk?”

As Thomas asked this question he looked toward Bill. Millie did not answer. The tears gathered in her eyes and she wiped them away, burying her face in the handkerchief she held in one of her hands.

Thomas insisted. ”You have seen him in that condition hundreds of times, have you not?”

There was a malicious note in his voice this time, as well as in the look he directed at the old man at the table.

Millie caught it, and a slight antagonism crept into her voice as she straightened in her chair, answering, in surprise, ”Why, I never counted.”

Thomas was deriving a long-desired satisfaction in his prodding of Bill, and it threatened his shrewder self-control. ”But he was in the habit of coming home drunk, wasn't he?” There was real glee in the question, but it escaped Millie this time. With a beseeching glance at Thomas, and one which pleaded for forgiveness toward Bill, she said, slowly, ”Sometimes.”

”And because of the poverty brought about by those bad habits you were obliged to leave--”

Here Millie broke in. Forgetting her embarra.s.sment and the crowded court-room in the realization that words were being put into her mouth, words which fell far short of the truth, she burst out, indignantly: ”Why, I never said any such thing! I went away to work because there was no opportunity in Calivada to earn any money, and I thought as long as I was going at all I might just as well go to San Francisco where I could make a salary large enough to take care of myself and to help Mr. and Mrs. Jones, who have been very good to me.”

Thomas saw that he had overstepped himself and he groped in his mind for new questions, until a scowl from Hammond reminded him that it might be better to stop rather than to bring out evidence which might turn against them and in favor of Bill. So he dismissed Millie from the stand.

She stood up while Thomas took his place next to Hammond at the table.

But Marvin, after a few whispered words with Bill, took Thomas's place by the witness-chair, holding up a detaining hand and calling, ”Miss Buckley!”

Millie glared at him, blushed deeply, and walked off the stand. She had not been able to forgive him for his advice to Bill and still held him responsible for Bill's leaving home, as she had felt that if Bill had not been prejudiced against Thomas and Hammond the place would have been sold and they would have all been living together in comfort.

But she did not get very far. As she left the platform Townsend motioned her to return and, submerging his personal friends.h.i.+p for her beneath his judicial duties he exclaimed, severely:

”One moment, Miss Buckley. The counsel for the defense has asked you a question.”

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