CHAPTER XLVI.
TURNPIKE TOLL.
"So to-morrow is the day of the trial, Miss Barlow?"
Mrs. Riley was pinning the bandage on Walter's neck, while Emily buttoned his jacket. She and the quondam Whistler had become fast friends, especially since the day of the struggle in Shagarach's office, and now that his burns were healing and he was able to get out they had arranged a Sunday afternoon excursion to Hemlock grove, with some vague hope of visiting the site of the demolished hut, if Walter's strength could carry him so far. There would be no lack of guides, for the spot had already become locally famous.
"Yes," answered Emily, "the talesmen have been sifted down to twelve at last."
"May the good Lord put mercy in their hearts," prayed Mrs. Riley.
"I wish it was a jury of ladies," said Walter.
"Why, ladies are never selected for the jury," cried his mother.
"Jurywomen is a word not yet included in the dictionaries," smiled Emily.