"It would be rough on a poor woman like Mrs. Manning having to pay for the deacon's cow."
"You're mighty considerate, Tom. You might consider me a little. If it were known that I shot the cow, father would make me pay at least half the bill out of my money in the savings' bank. I thought you were my friend!"
"So I am."
"Then you won't betray me. As for Mark, the deacon can't prove it against him, so he won't have to pay."
"Then the deacon will lose his cow, and get no pay."
"He can afford it. He's a stingy old lunks, anyway."
"That's true enough."
"And it won't ruin him if he does lose the cow. He's able to buy another."
It struck Tom, though he was not over conscientious, that this was not exactly the way to regard the matter, but he did not like to offend James, and he had ventured to oppose him more than usual already. So he remained silent.
James was not quite satisfied with his friend. He was not altogether sure of his fidelity.