“I chosen! Why, do you suppose I have anything to do with it? Don’t take up that notion, Afy. Mr. Ball put that subpoena in my hand, and told me to serve it. He might have given it to the other clerk, just as he gave it to me; it was all chance. If I could do you a good turn I’d do it—not a bad one.”
Afy strode on at railroad speed, waving him off. “Mind you don’t fail, Afy,” he said, as he prepared to return.
“Fail,” answered she, with flashing eyes. “I shall fail giving evidence, if you mean that. They don’t get me up to their justice-room, neither by force or stratagem.”
Ebenezer James stood and looked after her as she tore along.
“What a spirit that Afy has got, when it’s put up!” quoth he. “She’ll be doing as she said—make off—unless she’s stopped. She’s a great simpleton! Nothing particular need come out about her and Thorn, unless she lets it out herself in her tantrums. Here comes Ball, I declare! I must tell him.”
On went Afy, and gained Mrs. Latimer’s. That lady, suffering from indisposition was confined to the house. Afy, divesting herself of certain little odds and ends of her finery, made her way into Mrs. Latimer’s presence.
“Oh, ma’am, such heartrending news as I have had!” began she. “A relation of mine is dying, and wants to see me. I ought to be away by the next train.”
“Dear me!” cried Mrs. Latimer, after a pause of dismay. “But how can I do without you, Afy?”
“It’s a dying request, ma’am,” pleaded Afy, covering her eyes with her handkerchief—not the lace one—as if in the depth of woe. “Of course I wouldn’t ask you under any other circumstances, suffering as you are!”
“Where is it to!” asked Mrs. Latimer. “How long shall you be away?”