Read Online On Kingdom Mountain by Howard Frank Mosher - Free Book Online
Authors: Howard Frank Mosher
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his all-too-polite silence, to be skeptical about her theory. âIn conclusion,â the Duchess proclaimed, glaring at Henry and the judge and beaming at Sadie and A Number One, who were busy washing down her homemade lemon scones with cups of hot tea, âdo you think itâs even remotely conceivable that this unlettered clown, this low, sneaking, untutored, ill-favored strolling player and gloverâs apprentice penned the fabled âSceptred Isleâ piece? No, he did not. Nor any of the thirty-six plays erroneously attributed to him. All were the work of the much-maligned seventeenth Earl.â She pointed an accusing finger at the Pretender of Avon and thundered, âYou, sir, are a fraud!â
Including a ten-minute digression to attack âthe Pronouncer of Concordâ and âthe Proclaimer of Litchfield,â Miss Jane had spoken nonstop for a solid hour. Henry clapped enthusiastically. A Number One emitted a long, appreciative locomotive whistle. Sadie shook her tiny fist in Will Shakespeareâs face. Judge Allen congratulated Miss Jane on a most vigorous argument, checked out
The Hound of the Baskervilles
, bought a well-used copy of
The Country of the Pointed Firs
, and went home to read. All in all, for Miss Jane Hubbell Kinneson of Kingdom Mountain, the tea-and-scones literary evening at the Atheneum had been a pretty successful conclusion to a trying day.
10
W HEN HENRY SATTERFIELD , dressed all in white, slender and handsome and smiling amiably, strolled into the Kingdom County courtroom in the Common with Miss Jane a week later, some of the spectators mistook him for her attorney. Henry, for his part, was impressed by Janeâs amazingly confident bearing. Arranging her brief at the plaintiffâs table to the left of the aisle in front of the judgeâs bench, nodding familiarly to the spectators and the court clerk, she seemed as much at home here as in her kitchen workshop on Kingdom Mountain.
Eben Kinneson Esquire sat at the defense table to the right of the aisle. For a weekday morning there was a good crowd of curiosity seekers in the courtroom, many of whom had undoubtedly come to get a good look at the exotic southerner staying with Miss Jane.
As usual, Jane wore a black homespun dress, high-buttoned black shoes, and her frayed red and green wool hunting jacket fastened with the large safety pin she called her everyday brooch. Her hair was pulled back into a severe schoolteacherâs bun. A cardboard file fastened with black strings lay on the table in front of her. She had also brought along the homemade ash pointer she had used in her capacity as mistress of the Kinnesonville school.
To a medley of clinking, clanking, and hissing from the steam radiators, Judge Ira Allen entered the courtroom. He began the proceedings in genial fashion by announcing that, next to an old-fashioned wood stove, steam was the most even and comfortable heat going, if the loudest. âYou, sir,â he said,
pointing at a talkative radiator in the far back corner. âAre you quite finished? May we proceed?â The radiator behind his bench let out a derisive hiss. âWho asked you?â the judge said, to chuckles from everyone but Miss Jane and Eben Kinneson Esquire.
The large wooden blades of the propeller fans suspended from the stamped tin ceiling whirred around and around. A freight train rumbled through the village. The yard locomotive shifting cars at the American Heritage furniture mill behind the courthouse hooted. Couplings slammed together. Then the mill whistle shrieked out for the 9:30 break. The judge smiled and shook his head. He liked to say that his was a working courtroom in a working town, and that was just the way he liked it. Ira Allen had been born and brought up in Kingdom County and had deep family roots there. Jane had told Henry earlier that morning that she and the judge had vied for the honor of valedictorian at the Kingdom Common
Including a ten-minute digression to attack âthe Pronouncer of Concordâ and âthe Proclaimer of Litchfield,â Miss Jane had spoken nonstop for a solid hour. Henry clapped enthusiastically. A Number One emitted a long, appreciative locomotive whistle. Sadie shook her tiny fist in Will Shakespeareâs face. Judge Allen congratulated Miss Jane on a most vigorous argument, checked out
The Hound of the Baskervilles
, bought a well-used copy of
The Country of the Pointed Firs
, and went home to read. All in all, for Miss Jane Hubbell Kinneson of Kingdom Mountain, the tea-and-scones literary evening at the Atheneum had been a pretty successful conclusion to a trying day.
10
W HEN HENRY SATTERFIELD , dressed all in white, slender and handsome and smiling amiably, strolled into the Kingdom County courtroom in the Common with Miss Jane a week later, some of the spectators mistook him for her attorney. Henry, for his part, was impressed by Janeâs amazingly confident bearing. Arranging her brief at the plaintiffâs table to the left of the aisle in front of the judgeâs bench, nodding familiarly to the spectators and the court clerk, she seemed as much at home here as in her kitchen workshop on Kingdom Mountain.
Eben Kinneson Esquire sat at the defense table to the right of the aisle. For a weekday morning there was a good crowd of curiosity seekers in the courtroom, many of whom had undoubtedly come to get a good look at the exotic southerner staying with Miss Jane.
As usual, Jane wore a black homespun dress, high-buttoned black shoes, and her frayed red and green wool hunting jacket fastened with the large safety pin she called her everyday brooch. Her hair was pulled back into a severe schoolteacherâs bun. A cardboard file fastened with black strings lay on the table in front of her. She had also brought along the homemade ash pointer she had used in her capacity as mistress of the Kinnesonville school.
To a medley of clinking, clanking, and hissing from the steam radiators, Judge Ira Allen entered the courtroom. He began the proceedings in genial fashion by announcing that, next to an old-fashioned wood stove, steam was the most even and comfortable heat going, if the loudest. âYou, sir,â he said,
pointing at a talkative radiator in the far back corner. âAre you quite finished? May we proceed?â The radiator behind his bench let out a derisive hiss. âWho asked you?â the judge said, to chuckles from everyone but Miss Jane and Eben Kinneson Esquire.
The large wooden blades of the propeller fans suspended from the stamped tin ceiling whirred around and around. A freight train rumbled through the village. The yard locomotive shifting cars at the American Heritage furniture mill behind the courthouse hooted. Couplings slammed together. Then the mill whistle shrieked out for the 9:30 break. The judge smiled and shook his head. He liked to say that his was a working courtroom in a working town, and that was just the way he liked it. Ira Allen had been born and brought up in Kingdom County and had deep family roots there. Jane had told Henry earlier that morning that she and the judge had vied for the honor of valedictorian at the Kingdom Common
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