“But, oh, papa,” said Leonie, “how dreadful it will be if the verdict goes against you. Do you think they would actually send a man of your position to a horrid prison?”
“Leonie!” exclaimed Mrs. Cowdrick, “I am surprised at your speaking of such things. Pray don’t do it again. My nerves will not stand it.”
“You need not be alarmed, my dear child,” said Mr. Cowdrick, smiling. “My friends have arranged things comfortably for me with the prosecuting attorney, and the other authorities. I had an offer made to me to have the jury packed in my interest, but I was assured that it was unnecessary, and, besides, I felt that it would perhaps be wrong for me to descend to corruption.”
“It is a terrible experience at the best,” said Mrs. Cowdrick; “but there is some satisfaction in the reflection that we are not reduced to absolute poverty.”
“That is my greatest consolation,” rejoined Mr. Cowdrick. “Pinyard tells me that I may count on saving at least two hundred and fifty thousand dollars from the wreck; invested in good securities, too.”
“Then we can go to a watering-place, next summer, as usual?” asked Leonie.
“Yes, dear.”
“And can we keep our carriage and our servants, and everything, just as before?”
“Certainly; there will be no difference.”
Leonie reflected for a moment, and then sighed heavily.