Stethson, another man, a tall, fat-cheeked countryman, Vickers, and a
dried up little party, in a Grand-Army-of-the-Republic suit,
Parthenheimer. Mrs. Tarbell had the names down pat, and scrutinized each
prospective witness carefully, as if warning him that it would be no use
for him to give a fictitious name in the hope of evading his duties, as
she would now be able to pick him out of a regiment.

"I am very much obliged to you," she said, in a stately manner. "Now,
you all agree that the accident was the result of the negligence of the
driver of the car?"

"Why, yes, certainly," they all agreed at once.

"Leastways--" said Mecutchen.

"That is--" said Parthenheimer.

"How was it, anyway?" asked Stethson.

"Thought you saw it," cried the others, turning on him instantly.

"So I did," said Stethson; "but I thought I'd like to hear what you
gentlemen's impression was."

"Well," said Mecutchen and Vickers, the tall man, together, tipping back
their hats with a simultaneous and precisely similar movement on the
part of each,--nothing is more indicative of the careful independence of
the average American than the way in which he always keeps his head
covered in the presence of his lawyer,--"Well," said Vickers and
Mecutchen.