THE “RIDE” CONTINUED.
MRS. PIPKIN brought out the valise which had been packed the day before.
Annie followed with an armful of books.
“These will be good companions to you, if the squire doesn’t relent,”
she said, as she handed them up to Jack with an encouraging smile.
“I’ve no hope of his relenting. But I don’t feel as I did yesterday,”
said Jack. He glanced at the backs of the books. “I think I shall have a
pretty good time to read and study, there in jail! Don’t cry, dear
little Kate! I’m all right. Take good care of Lion. Good by, all! O Mrs.
Chatford! Miss Felton! I shall never forget how good you have been to
me!”
“Remember and read your Testament! I put it in the valise,” said Mrs.
Chatford.
“And keep a good heart! I’m sure it will all turn out well. Good by,
Jack!” cried Annie, as Sellick drove away.
“Go back, Lion! back!” said the boy, hastily wiping his tears. “Say good
by to Moses!”
Phineas, peeping from the barn, and witnessing these farewells, almost
envied Jack, as he saw him ride off with the constable; for already that
wretched youngster was beginning to feel there was a worse prison for
the mind than a jail,—that of its own guilty thoughts.
[Illustration: STARTING FOR THE JAIL.]
Deacon Chatford and the squire stood talking together on the roadside
before Peternot’s house, when Sellick drove up. The sight of their two
faces was enough for Jack. The deacon’s wore a disappointed and gloomy
expression; the squire’s was grimly triumphant.
“Hold on to him this time, Sellick!” cried the old man as he limped
towards the wagon, grasping with trembling hand his horn-headed cane.
“If he thinks to work upon my feelin’s by this move, he’ll find he’s
mistaken. I know his cunning tricks!”
“Squire Peternot,” said Jack, calmly, “I never expected to work upon
your feelings. You can send me to jail, I’m willing. You can have me
brought to trial, and convicted of breaking into your house, I suppose;
for I don’t deny what I’ve done.”
“You see how shameless he is!” said Peternot, turning upon the deacon.
“He’d as lives go to jail as not! Little he cares for public opinion,
the hardened wretch!” And he struck the ground with his cane.
“If I’m sent to jail for such a thing, the shame will be on you, not on
me,” Jack answered. “I should think _you_ cared little for public
opinion, to push a poor boy to the wall in this way!” his voice
beginning to quiver with a rising sense of his wrongs.
“Ho! that’s your game, is it?” said the squire; “to make a martyr of
yourself, and excite public feelin’ agin me!”
“I never thought of such a thing!” Jack declared; and he whispered to
Sellick, “Do drive along!”
Mr. Chatford was at the same time saying something in a low tone to
Sellick on the other side of the buggy. Then Sellick said, “Any last
word, squire?”
“My fust and last word to you is, look out for that boy!” said Peternot,
sternly. “That’s all!” And he limped away towards the house.
“Jack!” then said Mr. Chatford, in an earnest tone of voice, “haven’t
you a last word for me?”
“Only to say good by, and to thank you for your kindness to me—before
this thing happened,” faltered the prisoner.
“Not that!” said the deacon. “But I hoped—I have declared I couldn’t do
anything for you till you had retracted that falsehood about Phineas.
You know, I can give bail for you, and keep you out of jail till your
trial; and I will!”
“On condition that I confess to a lie?” said Jack. “Then I shall have to
go to jail.”
“I can’t bear the idea of that!” said Mr. Chatford, greatly shaken.
“It don’t trouble _me_ much now,” replied Jack. “It won’t be long before
the court sits. I shall have to go and have my trial then, anyway. And
if you should bail me, you’d be anxious about me all the while,—afraid I
might run away, and your bonds would be forfeit.”
“No, no! not now, since you’ve taken this honorable course, Jack! I’ll
trust you; only—”
“Please don’t say anything more about that, Mr. Chatford! And don’t
worry about me. I’ve been inside the jail; I know how it is there. I
shall be well off, with these books. Good by!”
“Better let him try it a spell, deacon!” laughed Sellick, as he touched
up his horse.
“The boy—somehow he makes me love him!” muttered the deacon, gazing
after the buggy with troubled, yearning eyes. “I love him, and I believe
him!” And he hurried home.
“Tell you what, sonny!” said Sellick, who had his own selfish reasons
for cutting short this interview before it should lead to a better
understanding, “I’ve thought what I’ll do. Promise to come and work for
me, and I’ll go bail for you. You shall kind o’ work for your board till
arter your trial; then, if you git clear, we’ll strike a bargain for a
year. What do you say?”
Jack thought of his books, and of Sellick’s bad reputation as an
employer, and said to himself, “If he bails me, he’ll expect me to hire
out to him anyway, for whatever he chooses to pay. In a year I should be
as hollow-cheeked and round-shouldered as poor Billy! Working for my
board till my trial comes off, means working like a slave for nothing.
I’d rather have a little time to read and study.” Then he said aloud, “I
guess, Mr. Sellick, if it’s the same thing to you, I’d a little rather
go to jail.”
“To jail it is, then!” said Sellick, snappishly, for he felt keenly the
force of this reply; and he gave his horse a cut.
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