Still Bill did not speak. He could remember that when the dispute had been at its height these had not been the sentiments of Pastor Graves. In fact, when a delegation had gone to the parsonage to demand obedience to the constitution of the church, the Dominie had replied that the ladies had come out victorious in the matter, and that it was an old-fashioned idea to forbid the women to speak or pray in public if they so wished; and the crest-fallen delegates had gone away from the rectory, and Bill Hopkins, with several others, from the church.
Seeing that not one of the respectable "Ameners" was going to help him, the Dominie sputtered out his wrath in another direction.
"If Young had kept his hands off that Skinner business, there wouldn't have been the slightest chance of the fisherman winning out."
"Ah! here's where the shoe pinches," thought Hopkins; "the parson needs help to wrest Skinner's squatter rights from him."
But he did not voice his thoughts.
"I guess that's right, Dominie," were his spoken words. "Skinner didn't have many friends in the court until that girl came in. She certainly did make a change in the ideas of most people in this town."
"Fools! to let a child like that break up the dignity of a court-room." Graves settled back angrily in his chair. He had lost in the game he was about to play with Bill Hopkins—lost before the game had begun.
"Skinner can thank his kid for his life, nevertheless," interjected Jones, "for another jury will never convict him.
"Think not?" queried the druggist.
Bates' question remained unanswered, for Dominie Graves turned the subject again.