“What shall I say! Humph! a slip on the path and a fall. I’m weak yet after the assault. Some one will have to plaster her dearest Jemmy’s head—a sickly fool!”
Chapter Nine.
Behind Prison Bars.
Mary Dell went again and again to the prison in the county town, tramping till she was footsore; but she did not see Abel, for she had to encounter double difficulties—to wit, the regulations of the authorities, and her brother’s refusal to see her.
At last, though, she compassed an interview with Bart Wrigley, and the big fellow listened to her stolidly, as he enjoyed the sound of her voice, sighing heavily from time to time.
“But even you seem at times, Bart, as if you did not believe a word I say,” she cried passionately.
“Who says I don’t?” said Bart, in a low growl. “You telled me you didn’t, my lass, and of course you didn’t. Why, I’d believe anything you told me; but as for Abel, he’s dead-set on it that you told the captain, and there’s no moving him.”
“But tell him, Bart, tell him I was angry with him for what he did—”