approached, and took his stand in the clear place at the head of the table.[Pg 29] [Pg 29] "Very good, Mistress Clapsaddle. You were a Westonhaugh, I believe?" "You believe, sneak-faced hypocrite that you are!" she blurted out. "I don't understand your lawyer ways. I like plain speaking myself. Don't you know me, and Luke and Hector, and—and most of us indeed, except that puny, white-faced girl yonder, whom, having been brought up on the other side of the Ridge, we have none of us seen since she was a screaming baby in Hildegarde's arms. And the young gentleman over there,"—here she indicated me—"who shows so little likeness to the rest of the family. He will have to make it pretty plain who his father was before we shall feel like acknowledging him, either as the son of one of Eustace's girls, or a chip from brother Salmon's hard old block." As this caused all eyes to turn upon me, even hers, I smiled as I stepped forward. The lawyer did not return that smile. "What is your name?" he asked shortly and sharply, as if he distrusted me.[Pg 30] [Pg 30] "Hugh Austin," was my quiet reply. "There is no such name on the list," snapped old Smead, with an authoritative gesture toward those who seemed anxious to enter a protest. "Probably not," I returned, "for I am neither a Witherspoon, a Westonhaugh nor a Clapsaddle. I am merely a chance wayfarer passing through the town on my way west. I thought this house was a tavern, or at least a place I could lodge in. The man I met in the doorway told me as much, and so I am here. If my company is not agreeable, or if you wish this room to yourselves, let me go into the kitchen. I promise not to meddle with the supper, hungry as I am. Or perhaps you wish me to join the crowd outside; it seems to be increasing." "No, no," came from all parts of the room. "Don't let the door be opened. Nothing could keep Lemuel and his crowd out if they once got foot over the threshold." The lawyer rubbed his chin. He seemed to be in some sort of quandary. First he scrutinized[Pg 31] me from under his shaggy brows with a sharp gleam of suspicion; then his features softened and, with a side glance at the young woman who called herself Eunice, (perhaps, because she was worth looking at, perhaps because she had partly
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