This girl seemed absolutely unconscious of herself. She was not at all
abashed, and very much in earnest about something.

Evidently she had watched the people coming out and had waited until
one appeared that she thought safe to call on for help.

“Of course I’ll give you a lift—what is it you want me to do?”

“I’ve got to go inside and see the Judge. It’s about my brudder here.
He is six, goin’ on seven, and they sent him home from school ’cause
they said he wasn’t old enough. I’m going to have that teacher
’rested. I’ve got the Bible here that says he’s six years old. If
you’ll carry the book I’ll bring Billy and the sled!”

“Where is the Bible?” I asked.

“Billy’s settin’ on it.”

It was a big, black, greasy Family Bible, evidently a relic of better
days. It had probably been hidden under the bed for safety.

The girl grappled the sled with one hand, and with the other Billy’s
little red fist.

I followed, carrying the big, black, greasy Family Bible.

Evidently this girl had been here before. She walked around the end of
the judicial bar, and laid down the sled. Then she took the Bible out
of my hands. It was about all she could do to lift it.