"
Foster came forward and Mose seized his hand as if meeting an old
acquaintance after the lapse of many years.
The Judge spoke to Laz: "When you go in under oath you'll have to be
more careful. Your drollery might send you to jail. You may go now."
As Laz turned to go he spied on the Judge's desk a fancifully wrought
ink-stand. Slowly moving toward the desk and craning his neck he took up
the ink-stand, stroked it and said: "Jedge, I'd like to borry this
thing. Fetch it back in a month or so."
"Put it down and get out. Wait a moment."
"Told me to get out."
Rap, rap!
"Hold yourself in readiness to appear before the court. Now you may go."
But he hesitated. "Hope you ain't miffed at me, Jedge, for sayin' I war
sorter diserpp'inted in you. I didn't mean no harm; an' say' Jedge, you
ask Old Jasper an' he'll tell you whuther he's made licker. He ain't one
of the sort that tells a lie, Jedge, an' I hope you'll do the best you
kin fur him; an' if you have to send him to the penitentiary I hope
you'll let me take half the time.
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