ith a very impatient temper and a badly crushed
leg. The Wednesday of the following week was set as the day for
Moore's trial, and Nancy received a summons to appear as a witness.

"I'll do that with pleasure, sure, fer it's meself that's doubtin' the
senses of yon pack o' lawyers. It's jist capital they are tryin' to
make out o' this affair to injure me in the eyes of the Commissioners,
I'm thinkin'," she said, when the blue paper was handed to her.

The scene in the courtroom was highly interesting to her, and she
wondered, as she listened to the learned talking, how their charge
against Moore could have any foundation. When her name was called she
was fully prepared to give them all a piece of her mind.

"Now, Mrs. McVeigh, the whole case against Mr. Moore rests on your
testimony. We want to know from you if the accused was addicted to the
use of liquor," the presiding counsel asked, in suave tones.

"He was not, yer worship," she answered, promptly.

"But one witness states that liquor was found in the accused man's
room, and also that his breath was strongly tainted shortly after the
time of the accident," the counsel continued.

The whole truth of the misunderstanding suddenly came home to Nancy,
and after some bickering between the lawyers, she was allowed to
narrate, in her own homely way, the current of events from the first
time she had noticed the illness coming over Mr. Moore, until she had
stood by the switch watching the train going to destruction. Every man
in the room had heard somewhat of Nancy's peculiar existence, and they
listened with doubly aroused interest to her simple tale. Suddenly an
interruption came from a very unexpected quarter. Moore was swaying
unsteadily, and but for the timely arm of the officer near him, would
have collapsed on the floor. The court immediately adjourned whilst a
doctor was sent for.

"There'll be no case, Mrs. McVeigh. It is clear in my mind that the
prisoner is a very sick man and should be sent at once to the hospital.
If I have my way the verdict of this examination will be a testimonial
of some substantial nature to be given to a very generous-hearted old
lady," the counsel said, shaking her hand warmly.

"An' who are ye blarneyin' now, Judge?" Nancy asked, not the least bit
abashed at the learned man's importance.

"A certain Widow McVeigh, of the Monk Road," he answered, laughing.

'Twas a short time after this that ugly rumors of rowdyism wer