"You can summon Amos Judson here and make him do as he has promised to do." Lettie cried, the hot tears filling her eyes.
"Tell me his promise first," her counsel said. And Lettie told him her story. As she went on from point to point, she threw reserve to the winds, and gave word to many thoughts she had meant to keep from him. When she had finished, John Baronet sat with his eyes on the floor a little while.
"Lettie, you want help, and you need it; and you deserve it on one condition only," he said slowly.
"What's that?" she asked eagerly.
"That you also be just to others. That's fair, isn't it?"
"Yes, it is," she agreed. Her soul was possessed with a selfish longing for her own welfare, but she was before a just and honorable judge now, in an atmosphere of right thinking.
"You know my son Phil, have known him many years. Although he is my boy, I cannot shield him if he does wrong. Sin carries its own penalty sooner or later. Tell me the truth now, as you must answer for yourself sometime before the almighty and ever-living God, has Philip Baronet ever wronged you?"
How deep and solemn his tones were. They drove the frivolous trifling spirit out of Lettie, and a sense of awe and fear of lying suddenly possessed her. She dropped her eyes. The old trickery and evil plotting were of no avail here. She durst do nothing but tell the truth.
"He never did mistreat me," she murmured, hardly above a whisper.
"He took you home from the Andersons' party the night Dave Mead was at Red Range?" queried my father.