GOOD BY, OLD FRIEND!
“Come along, sonny,” said Sellick.
They walked on to the length of fence where the constable’s horse was hitched, mounted the wagon, and rode away, watched by more than one troubled and tearful face in the farm-house door.
Mrs. Pipkin set about her work with more than the usual fury which distinguished her on Monday mornings; while Mr. Pipkin went out to finish the milking Jack had begun.
Phin chained Lion to his kennel, saying guiltily to himself, “I ain’t to blame for his going to jail; I didn’t mean to lie; but I don’t care! folks were getting to think more of him than they do of me; and now I’ve got his dog!” Still his sense of triumph was no more like happiness than roiled and troubled waters are like some pure crystal fountain.
Mr. Chatford walked from the house to the barn and back again, and about the yard and stables, in an absent-minded way, frowning, and looking strangely uneasy in his mind. His wife, in the mean while, tried to forget her grief and anxiety in doing something for poor Jack,—packing a portmanteau of such clothes as she thought he would need if he went to jail, putting in a few books, a pin-cushion, a box of Mrs. Pipkin’s cookies, which he was fond of, and some cakes of maple-sugar, besides many little things for his comfort, or to remind him that he still had a friend.
“Now, husband!” she said, calling the deacon in to breakfast, “this must go to the Basin at once, or it may be too late. Shall Mr. Pipkin take it, or will you?”
“O, well, I suppose I will! Peternot said he would like to have me go over and identify the shoes and things; but I hate to! Strange the boy should have stuck to his lies so!” exclaimed the dissatisfied deacon. “There’s nothing I wouldn’t have done for him, if he’d shown a proper spirit.” And he sat down to eat a hurried breakfast before starting for the Basin. “I don’t see how the boy is going to get out of this scrape!”
“The best way I know o’ gittin out of a bad scrape,” remarked Mr. Pipkin, entering just then, “an’ it’s a way I’ve tried many a time—”
“How’s that?” asked the deacon.