“I wonder, M’ri,” said Barnabas slowly, “if the Judge had a son of his own, he would try to reform him by putting him behind bars.”
“Oh, Barnabas!” protested M’ri, with a burst of tears.
“He’s still my boy, if he is wild, M’ri.”
“But, Barnabas, Martin’s patience is exhausted. He has got him out of trouble so many times––and, oh, Barnabas, he says he won’t under any circumstances take the case! He is ashamed to face the court and jury with such a palpably guilty client. I have pleaded with him, but I can’t influence him. You know how set he can be!”
“Wal, there are other lawyers,” said Barnabas grimly.
“He kept his word. Jud was cleared”
David had remained silent and constrained during this conversation, the lines of his young face setting like steel. Suddenly he left the house and paced up and down in the orchard, to wrestle once more with the old problem of his boyhood days. It was different now. Then it had been a question of how much he must stand from Jud for the sake of the benefits bestowed by the offender’s father. Now it meant a sacrifice of principle. He had made his boyish boast that he would defend only those who were wrongfully accused. To take this case would be to bring his wagon down from the star. Then suddenly he found himself disposed to arraign himself for selfishly clinging to his ideals.