"Couldn't you just kill him, Jube, as you did the garter snake," cried Rose, shaking the drops from her eager eyes.
Jube hesitated; the fellow had a vague idea that some one might object to this mode of settling the difficulty. Paul drew back with affright. He had received a cruel knowledge of the laws regarding human life, and the remedy pointed out by little Rose made him shrink.
"We must not ask Jube to be wicked," he said, gently.
Rose dashed his hand away. "Isn't it wicked for that man to come here after my own mother?" she cried, indignantly.
"Yes, Rose; but it would be more wicked for Jube to harm him. The law, Rose, the law."
"Well, I don't care. What is the law? If it's a man, Jube can whip him, can't you, Jube?" cried the little damsel, going for belligerent rights with all her puny strength.
"But it isn't a man, Rose," said Paul, solemnly. "It's something that no one ever sees. It comes like death, and when a person does wrong, even if it was a beautiful lady, strikes her down till her heart breaks. It shuts people up in prison."
"Oh don't, don't," cried Rose.
"It hangs 'em by the neck between two beams."
"Oh, how you frighten me, Paul."