"Oh, I don't know, Laurence, I guess he did a good turn today. The way he lit into that crowd—he gave them hell. And he has influence round here, people respect him, they know he's no milk-sop. Of course maybe the talk didn't do so much, I don't know—but his coming along with you—"
Carlin cut the Judge short impatiently.
"We didn't want him to go! But there he stuck—he would be in it.... And then he'd got in too and talked to Barclay. Got the poor fellow all mushed up, talking about his sin—as if he didn't feel enough like a sinner already!"
"Well, well, that's his business, you know," argued the Judge. "You can't blame him for that. And he showed he was willing to stand by Barclay. I guess he did about as much to protect him as the deputies did—"
"Oh, bosh!"
"Well, I think so. That crowd knew they'd have to hurt him to get at Barclay, and they didn't want to."
"I saw they cut his head open with a stone," observed Mary calmly. She was sitting beside the table, sewing.
"You saw?"
"I was down there in the square."
The two men stared at her incredulously. She went on, taking tiny neat stitches carefully in the baby's garment: