CHAPTER 16I SUPPOSE nearly everybody in the county was in Court House Square the morning of November 1st, when the Wyndham trial opened. I saw Frank Lazenby, of Lazenby’s The Ladies Store, who’s foreman of the grand jury that indicted Chase Wyndham, come through the crowded area, saluting his friends and discreetly spitting tobacco juice at the pedestal of the Civil War group at the corner of the Square. No one took that as in any way a gesture of contempt or familiarity. It was practically the only clear space in the Square, except for the Revolutionary group in the center. The necessary by-products of tobacco are my chief objection to it, as a matter of fact, and I was perfectly aware that Frank Lazenby and his tobacco juice aren’t any worse than Lieutenant Kelly and his sodden mangled c
