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“Ah! Miss Virgene, it is you, is it? Yes, indeed, I’ll accept your testimony with pleasure,” was the pleasant response of the judge, and the crowd fell aside to allow the pretty maiden to go to the front.

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Virgene Rich was the beauty of the little seaport town of B——, notwithstanding that she had only been a couple of years across the threshold of her “teens.”

She was the daughter of landlord Rich, of the “Anchorage Tavern,” and every one in B—— loved her, especially the lads.

Her most persistent admirer was Scott Clemmons, though he could not boast of having been more favored by her than others.

Now, as he saw her advance as a witness, his face paled and flushed by turns, for what would she, a girl, have to say of a quarrel among men, he wondered.

“Well, Miss Virgene, do you voluntarily appear in this case?” asked the judge, with a kindly smile.

“I do, Judge Miller, because I deem it my duty to do so, for if not I would not make myself appear so forward,” was the low yet distinct response.