The White Rose of Memphis. William C. Falkner

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The White Rose of Memphis - William C. Falkner

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tone said:

      “‘Is this a singing-school, or a Gipsy camp?’

      “‘Neither, sir,’ Harry replied.

      “‘Is it a Sunday-school, or a camp-meeting then?’

      “‘No, sir, it is neither a Sunday-school nor a camp-meeting.’

      “‘Then what in the deuce is it?’

      “‘It is no business of yours, sir, and we would be much obliged if you would let us alone.’

      “‘Oh, would you, now? See here, little sweetheart, I’ll give you a dollar for one of those pretty curls.’ And he reached out his hand to take hold of Lottie’s hair. She blushed and moved to Harry’s side. I felt the blood in my veins begin to boil, and the demon to rise within my heart.

      “‘You had better go away and leave us alone,’ said Harry, as he made a movement toward the boy.

      “‘Now, do you really think so?’ said he sneeringly. ‘What a polite nice boy you are!’

      “I thought Harry was going to strike him, but Lottie laid her hand on his shoulder.

      “‘Don’t have any difficulty with him, brother, he will go away directly,’ she said softly.

      “‘Now that’s a daisy, my little queen,’ he said; ‘let us be social.’

      “The other two boys seemed to be disgusted with the rude conduct of their comrade, and began to persuade him to go with them back to the village; and when he peremptorily refused, they went away and left him.

      “‘Let us drink and be friends,’ said he, as he drew a flask of brandy from his pocket and presented it to Harry, who of course refused; then offering it to me—‘You’ll drink with me I know, won’t you, old boy?’

      “‘No.’

      “‘Well, indeed, I must say that I never met such uncivil fellows in my life. If you won’t drink, suppose we have a dance.’ Then he began to caper about like a madman. ‘If you won’t drink nor dance, suppose we have a boxing match.’ Then he threw himself in an attitude supposed to be that of an experienced pugilist.

      “‘Give me a drink of water then,’ he said, ‘and I will leave you.’

      “I went immediately to the spring to fetch him some water in order to get rid of him. The spring was over a hundred yards from our camp. I had arrived at the spring and had stooped to dip up the water, when I heard Lottie calling me.

      “‘Come quick, Eddie,’ she screamed, ‘he is killing Harry!’

      “I got there as soon as I could. The boy was gone, and the blood was streaming over Harry’s face from a wound on his head. The boy had evidently sent me off after water on purpose to have a chance to abuse Harry; because as soon as I was gone he seized Lottie by the wrist and attempted to kiss her, when Harry struck him on the head with a small stick; then he threw Harry down (being much larger and stronger than he was), and began to beat him, when old Bob seized Bowles by the leg, tearing the flesh to the bone. Then the boy quickly released Harry and scampered off, vowing that he would have revenge. Harry was not seriously hurt, and very soon we were all asleep. We had scarcely finished breakfast next morning when the town marshal came out and arrested all of us, saying that Bowles had caused a warrant to be issued against Harry for an assault and battery committed on him. We were required to go with the marshal to the mayor’s office, where we were ordered to wait until that individual should finish his morning nap. We had been there about two hours when his honor came bustling in. Falstaff would have appeared lean by the side of this moving mountain of fat. He was the largest man I ever saw; the greasy rolls of flesh under his chin lay in waves on his breast; his jaws bulged out like the jaws of a fat hog, and a couple of teeth in the corners of his mouth stuck out over his lips like the tusks of a wild boar. Two little bunches of hair on the sides of his head were all he had; the red skin on top of his head was sleek, and glistened like polished metal.

      “‘What have you got for me this morning, Mr. Marshal?’ he inquired as he seated himself by a table and began to adjust his spectacles on his large nose.

      “‘We have two cases for trial this morning, sir,’ said a foppish young man. ‘One criminal case and one civil suit.’

      “‘Ah, good! We’ll try the civil suit first.’

      “The plaintiff in the civil suit was a pale-faced, poorly-dressed woman, with a forlorn, forsaken, half-starved appearance, who sat on a bench with a sickly-looking infant in her arms. When she stood up to be sworn as a witness she was compelled to lean on the table to keep from falling.

      “‘What is your complaint, madame, against Judge Bosh?’ demanded the mayor gruffly, as he stared savagely at the poor woman. In a low, tremulous tone she stated her case:

      “‘I contracted with Judge Bosh to work for him three months, for six dollars per month; I worked for him for two months and three-quarters, then fell ill, so that I was unable to work any more. He refused to pay me because I was unable to work the other quarter of a month. As soon as I got able to walk I went back and offered to work out my contract, but he said that it was too late—that he had made other arrangements. We are out of provisions at home, sir, and I hope you will make the judge pay me for the work I have done for him.’

      “‘No doubt you do, no doubt you do,’ growled the fountain of justice, as he told the plaintiff to stand aside. ‘What has the defendant got to say?’ and he smiled blandly on Judge Bosh as that distinguished individual stepped forward and laid his hand on the Bible. ‘It is unnecessary to swear you; please make your statement.’

      “‘That woman contracted to serve me three months. She failed to comply with her contract. As to her reasons, I know nothing about them, neither do I wish to know. A contract is a contract, and it binds both parties. She violated it, and I demand judgment.’

      “‘Certainly, certainly, judge; most assuredly you are clearly entitled to it. Judgment against plaintiff for cost,’ he muttered as he wrote down the entry on his docket.

      “The poor woman staggered out of the room, and fell fainting on the pavement.

      “‘What’s next, Mr. Marshal?’

      “‘A charge of assault and battery against Harry Wallingford.’

      “‘Is that the little scamp who tried to murder our esteemed young friend, Bowles? He looks like a first-class rascal. I’ll teach him a lesson that he’ll not forget soon. O, Lord, how wicked this world is getting to be!’ And he attempted to sigh, but it was a savage growl.

      “Bowles was sworn as a witness; he took the stand, and commenced uttering falsehoods from the start; I was almost struck dumb with astonishment at his total disregard of the solemn oath he had made to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. He wore a bandage on his head, and pretended to be suffering intense pain from the wound on it, while he had his leg in a sling. He stated that he ‘had been attracted to the camp by the singing, and that as soon as he arrived there he was insulted and abused in a most rude and vulgar manner by the two boys, the girl joining in with them. He said that while his back was turned toward the defendant he was knocked down with a club, and the savage dog set on him, lacerating the flesh of his leg; that as soon as he was able

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