“How?”
“They prayed Heaven to forgive us and hoped we might never come to know what they felt. I wish I'd never seen the inside of a jail. Fry got a scratched face in one cell, sir.”
“I am sorry to hear that. I shall have to scold her; who was it?”
“You won't scold her; you won't have the heart.”
“I will scold her whether I have the heart or not. Who was it?”
“No. 57, a gal that had some caterpillars.”
“Silkworms!”
“Yes, sir, silkworms, and it seems she has got to be uncommon fond of them, calls 'em her children, poor soul. When we came in and went to take them away she stood up for 'em and said we had no right—his reverence gave them her.”
“Well?”
“Well, sir, of course they made short work and took them away by force. Then I saw the girl turn white and her eye getting wildish; however, I don't know as it would have come to anything, but with them snatching away the leaves and the grubs one of them fell on the ground. The poor girl she goes to lift it up and Fry he sees her and put his foot on it before she could get to it.”