The sad face of Ephraim Adamson was seen by all, as he pushed in among them and took his son by the arm. They walked away briskly now together, Johnnie looking back over his shoulder.
But now, to the surprise of all—to her own surprise as well, so sudden was her resolve—Aurora Lane hurried after these two.
"Mr. Adamson," said she, "wait, don't whip him—I'm not angry—I understand."
Adamson halted for just a moment. "He's been away all day," said he, his face showing no resentment of her presence. "I didn't know they let him out last night—he didn't come home. I began looking for him as soon as I knew he was out—I thought he might be hiding in the fields—he does sometimes. He always runs away whenever he gets a chance. I'm sorry if he's done wrong—has he been bad to you?"
"I understand everything," said Aurora Lane. Many heard her say that. "Don't mind. Tomorrow, will you both be in town?—I might talk to you."
"No, Ma'am," said Adamson briefly. "He can't come any more. I may be here. What do you want of me—after what I've said—after what I've done to you? And here you come and bring him back to me."
His own face showed whitish blue in the flicker of the great arc light.
"Ma'am," he went on again, "there's a lot about you—you're some woman after all. Where have you been—at church?"
"Yes," said Aurora Lane, "I was at church."
"I ain't been there in years," said Eph Adamson sadly.