The awe of
it overwhelmed me, alarmed as I was. Why, it was like seeing the Soul
universal--bared and quivering."
William Pressley said nothing more. He never discussed anything. Once he
had spoken, the subject seemed to him finally disposed of.
"Great Grief!" cried Miss Penelope in the blankest amazement and the
greatest dismay. "For the land's sake!"
As the faithful high-priestess of the coffee-pot she was always the
first to taste her own brew. She now set her cup down hastily. Her red,
wrinkled little face was a study. The widow Broadnax, whose cup was
untouched, sat silent and impassive as usual, regarding her with the
same dull, half-open, unwinking gaze.
"What under the sun!" gasped Miss Penelope, still more and more amazed
and dismayed, and growing angry as she rallied from the shock.
"Come, come!--if I can't eat breakfast in peace, I'll take to the woods.
What's the matter?" exclaimed the judge. "Didn't you get the coffee made
to suit you, after all that rumpus? Isn't it good?"
"Good!" shrieked Miss Penelope. "It's poisoned, I do believe! Don't
drink it, any of you, if you value your lives!"
"Oh, nonsense!" said the judge.
Pages:
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129