Tom got dreadfully bewildered in his labyrinth of negatives and Paul was unable to make much of his speech, but he was certain that it harmonized with his own ideas, even if he did fail to comprehend its entire signification.
"We could help her," he kept repeating; "I am sure we could."
"I do wonder what the squire would say?" said Tom, giggling at the very idea, although somewhat frightened at its audacity. "Wouldn't there be a rumpus—oh, my golly!"
He laughed outright, and Paul joined him from sympathy with that merry face; but he became thoughtful again in a moment.
"You are certain they would take her away from home and lock her up in that dark, lonesome place you call a prison?" he inquired.
"Sure as a gun. Par says so, and he knows the squires and lawyers about here all to pieces; but that aint the worst of it, not by a jug full."
The good-hearted little fellow's voice began to choke in his throat, and he burst into a laugh to keep from sobbing outright.
"What can be worse than that?" inquired Paul, startled by his friend's demonstration.
"They'll kill her!"
Paul turned deadly pale. The horror in Tom's words had struck him dumb.