"Isn't it awful? I'm sorry for them, myself."
"But—but suppose there's some mistake?"
"There can't be, Jack says."
Alva shut her eyes and stood still for a few seconds. "The poor creatures," she said, softly and pitifully,—then: "How did you say you came to find out about it?"
"A man from Kinnecot had the paper in the station, and Josiah Bates brought him over to our bar this morning and asked Jack if he could see how folks like that could get trusted. Jack said yes, he could see, and then he told the man from Kinnecot that just at present he was trusting the same people, himself."
"Oh, dear," Alva passed her hand wearily across her forehead; "it's awful."
"Yes, isn't it? The man gave him the paper then. And Jack's first idea was to take it right up-stairs to them, but then he thought they might skip before he could have them arrested, so he decided to drive over and see Mr. Pollock first."
"I can't make it seem true."
"No, I can't, either. Of course they never paid anything, but they're nice people. I've liked them."
"Then they won't know anything about all this until they are really arrested?"