A few blacks whispered in one
corner. The dirty stove was glowing with pine-wood and the Judge sat at
a desk.
"Where's your lawyer?" he asked sharply of Zora.
"I have none," returned Zora, rising.
There came a silence in the court. Her voice was low, and the men leaned
forward to listen. The Judge felt impelled to be over-gruff.
"Get a lawyer," he ordered.
"Your honor, my case is simple, and with your honor's permission I wish
to conduct it myself. I cannot afford a lawyer, and I do not think I
need one."
Cresswell's lawyer smiled and leaned back. It was going to be easier
than he supposed. Evidently the woman believed she had no case, and was
weakening.
The trial proceeded, and Zora stated her contention. She told how long
her mother and grandmother had served the Cresswells and showed her
receipt for rent paid.
"A friend sent me some money. I went to Mr. Cresswell and asked him to
sell me two hundred acres of land. He consented to do so and signed this
contract in the presence of his son-in-law."
Just then John Taylor came into the court, and Cresswell beckoned to
him.
"I want you to help me out, John."
"All right," whispered Taylor. "What can I do?"
"Swear that Cresswell didn't mean to sign this," said the lawyer
quickly, as he arose to address the court.
Taylor looked at the paper blankly and then at Cresswell and some
inkling of the irreconcilable difference in the two natures leapt in
both their hearts.
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