“I suppose you feel a little hard agin’ me, Andy, but I couldn’t help it. That barn cost me eight hundred dollars.”
“It was a serious loss, yes, sir,” said Andy, “and I am sorry for you.”
Jones fidgeted. Talbot was talking to the attorney, and the farmer seemed glad to get away from his company.
“See here, Andy,” he said, edging a little nearer, “I’ve got boys of my own, and it makes me feel badly to see you in this fix.”
“What did you place me here for, then?” demanded Andy.
“I—I thought—you see, Talbot had the evidence. He egged me on, so to speak. Honest and true, Andy, did you set fire to my barn?”
“Honest and true, Mr. Jones, I had no hand in it. Why should I? You have always been pleasant and good to me.”
“Why, you see, I stopped you running away from Talbot that day.”
“And you think I turned firebug out of spite? Oh, Mr. Jones!”
“H’m—see here, judge,” and Jones moved up to the desk. “I don’t know that I care to prosecute this case.”