“Let as see if we cannot find something else,” said Ketchum, “to suit your taste better I think (for he now perfectly understood the temper of his client, and read the vindictive purpose of his soul, and, alas! was willing to descend to the meanness of ministering to its gratification,)—­I think it would be a reproach to the law if such a high-handed outrage should be permitted to pass unpunished.”  He again referred to the index and apparently finding what he wanted turned the leaves till he came to the title, “Workhouses.”  “Here,” cried he, “at the 688th page, in the seventh section, we have got him;” and he read from the Statutes a provision, authorising and empowering an associate or Justice of the Peace to send “’all rogues, vagabonds, sturdy beggars, and other lewd, idle, dissolute, profane and disorderly persons that have no settlement in this State, to such workhouses, and order them to be kept to hard labor’ &c.; and here on the next page, ‘also such as are guilty of reviling and profane speaking.’”

“That last will do, if the law will hold him,” said Davenport.

“Leave that to me,” said Ketchum.  “That section will hold water or nothing will.  Give me the names of your witnesses, and we will set the mill a grinding.  I suppose,” he added, carelessly, “you have no objection to bringing the case before Squire Miller?”

“Oh, none in the world,” answered the other, who knew perfectly well the influence he exercised over the Justice.  “But you haven’t said a word about the Grand Juror to make the complaint.”

“That will be all straight,” replied Ketchum.  “Two Grand Jurors I know were at the meeting, either of whom will answer our purpose.  Trust that to me, and I will attend to it.”

Hereupon, Davenport mentioned the names of the witnesses he wished subp[=oe]ned.  “And now, Squire,” he added, “that this matter is concluded between us, how comes on my case with Fanning?”

Ketchum felt some surprise at the question, although his countenance expressed none, for it was only a short time since he had gone over the whole subject with his client, and the plan of operations had been agreed on between them.  He understood, however, the character of Davenport too well not to know that he had a reason of his own for asking, and not doubting it would come out in the course of the conversation, he replied very composedly that it would probably be reached the next term.

Davenport went on for awhile, talking of his case, Ketchum all the time wondering at his drift, until, having concluded what it pleased him to say, he rose to take leave.  After bidding good morning by way of farewell, he walked to the door, when suddenly turning, as if the thought had just struck him, he observed—­“By the way, if anybody should happen to notice that I had called on you, I have no objections to your saying I had a talk with you about that case of Fanning’s.”