“Ho! that’s your game, is it?” said the squire; “to make a martyr of yourself, and excite public feelin’ agin me!”
“I never thought of such a thing!” Jack declared; and he whispered to Sellick, “Do drive along!”
Mr. Chatford was at the same time saying something in a low tone to Sellick on the other side of the buggy. Then Sellick said, “Any last word, squire?”
“My fust and last word to you is, look out for that boy!” said Peternot, sternly. “That’s all!” And he limped away towards the house.
“Jack!” then said Mr. Chatford, in an earnest tone of voice, “haven’t you a last word for me?”
“Only to say good by, and to thank you for your kindness to me—before this thing happened,” faltered the prisoner.
“Not that!” said the deacon. “But I hoped—I have declared I couldn’t do anything for you till you had retracted that falsehood about Phineas. You know, I can give bail for you, and keep you out of jail till your trial; and I will!”
“On condition that I confess to a lie?” said Jack. “Then I shall have to go to jail.”
“I can’t bear the idea of that!” said Mr. Chatford, greatly shaken.
“It don’t trouble me much now,” replied Jack. “It won’t be long before the court sits. I shall have to go and have my trial then, anyway. And if you should bail me, you’d be anxious about me all the while,—afraid I might run away, and your bonds would be forfeit.”