First Monday in October

in the sanctum sanctorum
of the court,

and none is there today.
Since the death of
Justice Stanley Moorehead,

this has been an eight-man court,
which, as Justice Daniel Snow
has pointed out,

resembles a four-man
basketball team.

- Today, the vacancy is filled.
- How are you?

- But this remains an eight-man court.
- Well, where is she?

Maybe we ought to sound
the warning buzzer sooner.

I suppose she has
things to do that we don't.

After all, I don't have anything
to do with my hair.

This is an historic occasion.
Like the Jesuits going coed.
Suppose she'll want to hang chintz
curtains everywhere? I hate chintz.

Why am I nervous?
She should be nervous.

Things aren't going to
be different from the way

they've been every
two minutes to ten in court history.

We've got to think of her
as one of the brothers.

Good morning.
Justice Loomis, welcome.
Welcome to the court.

- Thank you. Good morning.
- Nice to have you with us.

Thank you for the lovely roses.
You don't send me roses
anymore, C.J.

It's 9:58, gentlemen
and Madame Justice.

We shake hands like this every day,
just before we take the bench.

Like nine boxers coming into a ring.
We shake hands before
we knock each other out.