“‘What have you got to do, father?’
“‘Sit on a jury, dear, to decide whether Simon Ruffin is guilty or no.’
“‘Simon Ruffin!—that shot that man!—Oh, father!’
“‘It’s pretty bad,’ said the cobbler.
“‘How long will you be gone?’
“‘I can’t tell at all,’ said the cobbler; ‘maybe a day—a day! they can’t take the evidence in two days. I don’t know whether it will be two or three days, or a week, dear.’
“‘A week—And what shall we do?’ Sue could not help saying.
“‘If I can get off, I will,’ said the cobbler; ‘but in case I can’t, I have or I will have by morning, as much wood as will do till I come back. I have two-and-sixpence besides, which I can leave you, darling; and I can do nothing more but trust.’
“‘Father, isn’t it hard to trust sometimes?’ Sue said with her eyes full of tears. The poor cobbler wrapped her in his arms and kissed them away, but he did not try to answer.