“He don’t hit you, I hope, Sallie?” he said, glancing in the direction of the two men.
“Oh! no,” she answered, quickly, “not that. He started to do it a few times, but I just stood there and looked at him, like my poor mother did that last time he struck her; and he just can’t do it, you see. But now you won’t want me to go agin him. Do you think it’s right to ask a girl to do that, when it’s her own father?”
“Yes,” said Amos boldly, “if he was sick and the doctor told you to give him some bitter medicine that’d make him well, you’d sure do it, no matter what your dad said. Well, you’re goin’ to save him this way, you know.”
“Yes, yes,” she breathed, putting a hand to her breast, as if the conflict of emotions almost overpowered her, “she did the same more’n once, broke his bottle to save him; and that was why he hit her.”
“Was she sorry that she done it?” asked Amos, craftily.
“I know she said, when she came to again, after lyin’ there a whole hour, with me a cryin’ my eyes out, believin’ her dead—she said she’d do it again whenever she had the chance, if he killed her for it. She believed she’d been sent to try and save dad—poor little mother, she never lived to see the day.”
Amos was feeling somewhat remorseful about thus working upon her feelings; but he really believed he was doing the best thing for everybody.
“Then her duty has come down to you, Sallie,” he went on to say. “If this crazy scheme goes through, you can just bet your dad will end his days locked up in jail. Now, by playing a little trick on Gabe Hackett you can upset his plan and save your father. Anyhow, you know it’s Gabe’s idea, and he’s just dragging your weak dad into it.”
Amos winced a little when saying this but he felt that the end justified the means. Crawley had the word “rascal” written all over his face, and apparently it required very little persuading to “drag” him into any scheme that promised easy money.
Sallie seemed to ponder over what the boy had suggested.