"I must have very strong evidence—direct evidence of my child's guilt before I believe all this, sir."
Mr. Tayloe spoke for the first time. He addressed the Major, not the last speaker.
"What more does the man want than my word?"
The father wheeled sharply upon him.
"Did you see her throw the water upon you? Did you look to see whether or not the watch was upon your desk when you started to run after the child? Might not the woman whom Major Duncombe saw have entered the school-house while you were in the woods? Major Duncombe, my daughter came home last night raving with fever, scratched by briers, and covered with swamp mud. She has raved all day of the cruelty and injustice of her teacher. There's another side to the story, sir"—the hand that held his cowhide whip went up above his head and came down hard upon the desk—"and as sure as I am a live man, and there is justice on earth or in heaven, I mean to get at the bottom of this thing!"
He turned abruptly and stalked to the door. Warm moisture hung upon his sandy eyelashes and made the lids smart. He could not have uttered another word to save his life or his child's reputation.
The Major looked perplexedly at his companion, who shrugged his shoulders and pursed up his mouth disdainfully.
"What else did you expect from him?" he asked, taking no pains to lower his voice.
Mr. Grigsby came back as abruptly as he had left. He had got himself in hand, and spoke in his usual dry, somewhat harsh voice.
"Major Duncombe, I am at your service as soon as I have your commands. Do you advise a search of the Fogg premises? As a magistrate, you can make out a warrant and qualify me to serve it. The son from Norfolk is at his mother's just now. It might be well to make the search before he gets away. As to my daughter—if there is any doubt as to her ability to appear as an accomplice, you can satisfy yourself on that head by a visit to my house. Perhaps a search of my premises might be expedient."