“Pretty doin's there's goin' to be,” said he; “never was nothin' like it in this town. That's what I stayed for. Thought ye'd orter know.”
“What do you mean?” asked Margaret Bean, staring.
“Ye know what the doctor says about him?” The old man jerked his head towards the door.
Margaret nodded.
“Well, they're goin' to have 'em both hung for murder the minute he draws his last breath.”
“Can't till they're tried,” said Margaret, with a sniff of scorn at her husband's lack of legal knowledge.
“Well, they're goin' to clap 'em into jail the minute they git home, an' keep 'em there till they can hang 'em,” persisted old man Bean.
“They ain't.”
“I tell ye they are!”
Old man Bean had a cup of tea, plentifully sweetened with molasses, made from the ginger which he had purchased, and went to bed happy and peaceful, as one who has worked innocently and well his small powers to his own advantage; and soon after that Lot also heard the news which he had brought.