“I am ‘now-ing,’ ” said Annie, the red-nosed, the red-eyed, the angry. Annie was always a little angry and these soldiers, this occupation, did not improve her temper. Indeed, what for years had been considered simply a bad disposition was suddenly become a patriotic emotion. Annie had gained some little reputation as an exponent of liberty by throwing hot water on the soldiers. She would have thrown it on anyone who cluttered up her porch, but it just happened that she had become a heroine; and since anger had been the beginning of her success, Annie went on to new successes by whipping herself into increased and constant anger.
“Don’t scuff the bottom,” Joseph said. The table wedged in the doorway. “Steady!” Joseph warned.
“I am steady,” said Annie.
Joseph stood off and studied the table, and Annie crossed her arms and glared at him. He tested a leg. “Don’t push,” he said. “Don’t push so hard.” And by himself he got the table through while Annie followed with crossed arms. “Now, up she goes,” said Joseph, and at last Annie helped him settle it on four legs and move it to the center of the room. “There,” Annie said. “If His Excellency hadn’t told me to, I wouldn’t have done it. What right have they got moving tables around?”
“What right coming in at all?” said Joseph.
“None,” said Annie.
“None,” repeated Joseph. “I see it like they have no right at all, but they do it, with their guns and their parachutes; they do it, Annie.”
“They got no right,” said Annie. “What do they want with a table in here, anyway? This isn’t a dining-room.”
Joseph moved a chair up to the table and he set it carefully at the right distance from the table, and he adjusted it. “They’re going to hold a trial,” he said “They’re going to try Alexander Morden.”
“Molly Morden’s husband?”
“Molly Morden’s husband.”
“For bashing that fellow with a pick?”
“That’s right,” said Joseph.
“But he’s a nice man,” Annie said. “They’ve got no right to try him. He gave Molly a big red dress for her birthday. What right have they got to try Alex?”
“Well,” Joseph explained, “he killed this fellow.”
“Suppose he did; the fellow ordered Alex around. I heard about it. Alex doesn’t like to be ordered. Alex’s been an alderman in his time, and his father, too. And Molly Morden makes a nice cake,” Annie said charitably. “But her frosting gets too hard. What’ll they do with Alex?”
“Shoot him,” Joseph said gloomily.
“They can’t do that.”
“Bring up the chairs, Annie. Yes, they can. They’ll just do it.”
Annie shook a very rigid finger in his face. “You remember my words,” she said angrily. “People aren’t going to like it if they hurt Alex. People like Alex. Did he ever hurt anybody before? Answer me that!”
“No,” said Joseph.
“Well, there, you see! If they hurt Alex, people are going to be mad and I’m going to be mad I won’t stand for it.”
“What will you do?” Joseph asked her.
“Why, I’ll kill some of them myself,” said Annie.
“And then they’ll shoot you,” said Joseph.
“Let them! I tell you, Joseph, things can go too far—tramping in and out all hours of the night, shooting people.”
Joseph adjusted a chair at the head of the table, and he became in some curious way a conspirator. He said softly, “Annie.”
She paused and, sensing his tone, walked nearer to him. He said, “Can you keep a secret?”
She looked at him with a little admiration, for he had never had a secret before. “Yes. What is it?”
“Well, William Deal and Walter Doggel got away last night.”
“Got away? Where?”
“They got away to England, in a boat.”
Annie sighed with pleasure and anticipation. “Does everybody know it?”
“Well, not everybody,” said Joseph. “Everybody but—” and he pointed a quick thumb toward the ceiling.
“When did they go? Why didn’t I hear about it?”
“You were busy.” Joseph’s voice and face were cold. “You know that Corell?”
“Yes.”
Joseph came close to her. “I don’t think he’s going to live long.”
“What do you mean?” Annie asked.
“Well, people are talking.”
Annie sighed with tension. “Ah-h-h!!”
Joseph at last had opinions. “People are getting together,” he said. “They don’t like to be conquered. Things are going to happen. You keep your eyes peeled, Annie. There’s going to be things for you to do.”
Annie asked, “How about His Excellency? What’s he going to do? How does His Excellency stand?”
“Nobody knows,” said Joseph. “He doesn’t say anything.”
“He wouldn’t be against us,” Annie said.
“He doesn’t say,” said Joseph.
The knob turned on the left-hand door, and Mayor Orden came in slowly. He looked tired and old. Behind him Doctor Winter walked. Orden said, “That’s good, Joseph. Thank you, Annie. It looks very well.”
They went out and Joseph looked back through the door for a moment before he closed it.
Mayor Orden walked to the fire and turned to warm his back. Doctor Winter pulled out the chair at the head of the table and sat down. “I wonder how much longer I can hold this position?” Orden said. “The people don’t quite trust me and neither does the enemy. I wonder whether this is a good thing.”
“I don’t know,” said Winter. “you trust yourself, don’t you? There’s no doubt in your own mind?”
“Doubt? No. I am the Mayor. I don’t understand many things.” He pointed to the table. “I don’t know why they have to hold this trial in here. They’re going to try Alex Morden here for murder. You remember Alex? He has that pretty little wife, Molly.”
“I remember,” said Winter. “She used to teach in the grammar school. Yes, I remember. She’s so pretty, she hated to get glasses when she needed them. Well, I guess Alex killed an officer, all right. Nobody’s questioned that.”
Mayor Orden said bitterly, ‘Nobody questions it But why do they try him? Why don’t they shoot him? This is not a matter of doubt or certainty, justice or injustice. There’s none of that here. Why must they try him—and in my house?”
Winter said, “I would guess it is for the show. There’s an idea about it: if you go through the form of a thing, you have it, and sometimes people are satisfied with the form of a thing. We had an army—soldiers with guns—but it wasn’t an army, you see. The invaders will have a trial and hope to convince the people that there is justice involved. Alex did kill the captain, you know.”
“Yes, I see that,” Orden said.
And Winter went on, “If it comes from your house, where the people expect justice—”
He was interrupted by the opening of the door to the right. A young woman entered. She was about thirty and quite pretty. She carried her glasses in her hand. She was dressed simply and neatly and she was very excited. She said quickly, “Annie told me to come right in, sir.”
“Why, of course,” said the Mayor. “You’re Molly Morden.”
“Yes, sir, I am. They say that Alex is to be tried and shot.”
Orden looked down at the floor for a moment, and Molly went on, “They say you will sentence him. It will be your words that send him out.”
Orden looked up, startled. “What’s this? Who says this?”
“The people in the town.” She held herself very straight and she asked, half pleadingly, half demandingly, “You wouldn’t do that, would you, sir?”
“How could the people know what I don’t know?” he said.
“That is a great mystery,” said Doctor Winter. “That is a mystery that has disturbed rulers all over the world—how the people know. It disturbs the invaders now, I am told, how news runs through censorships, how the truth of things fights free of control. It is a great mystery.”
The girl looked up, for the room had suddenly darkened, and she seemed to be afraid. “It’s a cloud,” she said. “There’s word snow is on the way, and it’s early, too.” Doctor Winter went to the window and squinted up at the sky, and he said, “Yes, it’s a big cloud; maybe it will pass over.”
Mayor Orden switched on a lamp that made only a little circle of light. He switched it on again and said, “A light in the daytime is a lonely thing.”
Now Molly came near to him again. “Alex is not a murdering man,” she said. “He’s a quick-tempered man, but he’s never broken a law. He’s a respected man.”
Orden rested his hand on her shoulder and he said, “I have known Alex since he was a little boy. I knew his father and his grandfather. His grandfather was a bear-hunter in the old days. Did you know that?”
Molly ignored him. “You wouldn’t sentence Alex?”
“No,” he said. “How could I sentence him?”