“I mean what the words mean.”
“She replied in a manner you can call earnestly and promptly. There was no hesitation about it.”
“That is promptly — no hesitation, isn’t it? You understand that, don’t you?”
“I do, yes, sir.”
“Now did she speak earnestly? ”
“Well, I would not say she didn’t speak earnestly.”
“What’s that?”
“I should say I would not say she didn’t speak earnestly.”
“I know you say so. Did she speak earnestly?”
“Well, I should say yes. She spoke earnestly so far as the promptness of the question goes.”
“Do you know any difference between promptness and earnestness?”
“There is a difference between promptness and earnestness.”
“Keeping that distinction in mind, you say she answered you, did she — earnestly?”
“She did, as far as I—”
“What’s that?”
“As far as I would be able to determine by her action, she was earnest.”
“That’s what I asked you — prompt and earnest. What was then said?”
“Miss Emma Borden said, ‘Well, we’ve tried to keep it from her as long as we could.’ I then asked Miss Lizzie where she went after leaving her father. She said that she went to the barn for some lead for sinkers. I asked her how long she remained in the barn. She said about twenty minutes. I believe I then said that if the people annoyed them in any way, that they should notify the officer in the yard and instruct him to tell the marshal. On leaving, I think Miss Emma Borden made the statement, ‘We want to do everything we can in this matter.’ And on leaving, I stated that I would return on Sunday, but I did not, on account of my mother being taken ill. She was out at Stone Bridge, and I was summoned to see her very early in the morning, and didn’t get back till late that night.”
Sitting there listening as the next witness testified, Lizzie suddenly wondered how the jury could possibly keep track of all this, how these simple country people could possibly hope to understand where all of it was leading.
In the past several hours they had heard more testimony about dresses than any but a dressmaker’s assistant had any right to hear, the search for the dresses themselves, the search for blood or paint stains on the dresses, the expert testimony that there had been discovered only a minuscule drop of blood on any of the garments, and that possibly menstrual blood — her ears had burned when she’d heard Professor Wood’s testimony in so public a place as this. Yet what of all this was the jury retaining?
When it came time for them to deliberate, would they wonder why they had listened, as they did now, to a man named John W. Grouard, who said he was a housepainter, and who further said he had painted the house of Andrew J. Borden at 92 Second Street in May of last year, three months before the murders? Would these twelve men be able to remember the significance of the fact that she herself had been about the premises where the paint was, had indeed supervised the mixing of the paint, looking on to see that it was done properly? Or that she had been standing there beside him when he tried a color sample on the corner of the house near the back steps?
Would these farmers know and understand why John W. Grouard the housepainter had been called by her attorneys to testify?
“I painted the steps and everything connected with the house,” he said. “The well house and fence, everything.”
My name is Mary A. Raymond. I am a dressmaker. I live at 31 Franklin Street, in Fall River. I have done dressmaking for Miss Lizzie Borden for a number of years. Ten years at the house, and before that at my own home. I also worked for Mrs. Borden — not for Miss Emma — for Mrs. Borden during that time. I worked for her in the same room that I did Miss Lizzie’s dresses. At the same time. Both of them were in there at the same time.
A year ago this spring I made some dresses for Miss Lizzie. This was the first week in May. I was there three weeks. One of the dresses was a Bedford cord. I made that the first one. She needed it, needed it to wear, and had it made first. I couldn’t tell how long it took to make it, couldn’t tell the exact time, but I should think three days.
The dress was a light blue with a dark figure. Quite a light blue. I can’t remember the shape of the figure. It was a dark figure, I can’t say how large. The dress was made with a blouse waist, and a full skirt, straight widths. The sleeves were full sleeves, large sleeves. The length was longer than she usually had them, I should certainly say a finger longer, two inches longer. I also made a pink wrapper for her at that time. I should think the Bedford cord was longer than the pink wrapper.
“Now what was the material of which this Bedford cord was made?”
“Why, it was a Bedford cord! That was the name of the material.”
“Well, I meant as to whether it was cotton or woolen or cheap goods.”
“It was cotton, a cheap cotton dress.”
“Was it trimmed at all?”
“Trimmed with a ruffle around the bottom.”
“A ruffle of what?”
“Of the same.”
“Do you know whether or not, at that time you were there, they were painting the house or did paint the house?”
“They did paint the house at the time, yes, sir.”
“Do you know anything about whether at that time there was any paint got upon the dress?”
“There was.”
“How soon after it was made did Miss Lizzie begin to wear it?”
“Just as soon as it was finished.”
“And how soon was it after that, as you recollect, that she got the paint upon it?”
“I can’t tell you that. I don’t remember.”
“Was it while you were there?”
“Oh, yes, sir.”
“Was anything said about it by you at the time? To her?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Where was the paint, if you recollect?”
“It was on the front of the dress and around the bottom of the dress. Around the ruffle. On the underneath part of the hem.”
“Did she wear the dress most or all the time you were there?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Do you remember anything about the wearing of it?”
“Well, it either faded or the color wore off, I can’t tell you which. It changed color.”
“At that time, did she have an old wrapper which this was being made to take the place of?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Do you remember what she did with the old wrapper?”
“Yes, sir.”
“What did she do with it?”
“Wait a minute!” Moody said. “If she knows of her own knowledge. I object anyhow.”
“The witness is only asked with reference to her own knowledge,” Mason said.
“My objection, however, is general. I meant to have put it so.”
“She may answer,” Mason said.
“Do you know what she did with the old wrapper that this took the place of?”
“She cut some pieces out of it and said she should burn the rest.”
Was it beginning to fall into place for them? Lizzie wondered. Was all this testimony about dresses and dressmakers, painters and paint stains, beginning to assume a decipherable form reasoned out by her attorneys well in advance and presented now in a progression of facts so precise that even the dullest farmer might understand them? Or would it all have to wait until the events of that Sunday morning, August the seventh, were related in detail?
Her sister now, her sister again.
“Now, then, Miss Emma, I will ask you if you know of a Bedford cord dress which your sister had at that time.”