Farmer Chatford hurried home, and, entering the house, found the three women seated in a circle, holding a solemn consultation.
Mrs. Chatford had just been saying, “I’m glad you didn’t urge him, Annie. He don’t often make up his mind in this way, but when he does it’s no use arguing with him. I had said everything I could, before, to induce him to be Jack’s bail; and when I mentioned the subject again—”
The deacon inferred, with reason, from the sudden manner in which this conversation ceased as he came in, and the scowl Mrs. Pipkin gave him, that his own conduct had been the topic of remark.
“Peternot is hard as a rock!” he said; then added quickly, addressing Mrs. Pipkin, “Call the boys, or your husband; tell ’em to harness up old Maje and put him in the buggy, while I change my clothes. I’ve thought of a little business in the city to-day.”
Mrs. Chatford and Annie exchanged glances; and the former whispered, “I knew he couldn’t be satisfied to let Jack go off so!” Then, following him to the bedroom, “I’m glad you are going! I want you to see the doctor, and tell him about Jack. He will do what he can for him, I’m sure!”
“I guess there’s no danger but what Jack will have everything done for him he deserves,” was the ambiguous reply.
“Couldn’t you have any influence at all with the squire?” said Mrs. Chatford, handing him his second-best suit of clothes.
“No more than the wind that blows! Strange,” added the good deacon, “how a man can be so set in his way, and refuse to let any considerations of reason or humanity have weight with him!”
“Yes, it is, very strange,” remarked Mrs. Chatford, quietly.
“O papa!” cried Kate, running into the room, “what is it about bailing Jack? Would that keep him out of jail? and could you do it?”