“Oh, I'll come,” replied the girl, in a sort of disgust, and her eyes still dwelt upon Lemuel.
“That's all,” returned the captain, and the girl, accepting her dismissal, went out.
Now that it was too late, Lemuel could break from his nightmare. “Oh, don't let her go! I ain't the one! I was running after a fellow that passed off a counterfeit ten-dollar bill on me in the Common yesterday. I never touched her satchel. I never saw her before——”
“What's that?” demanded the captain sharply.
“You've got the wrong one!” cried Lemuel. “I never did anything to the girl.”
“Why, you fool!” retorted the captain angrily; “why didn't you say that when she was here, instead of standing there like a dumb animal? Heigh?”
Lemuel's sudden flow of speech was stopped at its source again. His lips were locked; he could not answer a word.
The captain went on angrily. “If you'd spoke up in time, may be I might 'a' let you go. I don't want to do a man any harm if I can't do him some good. Next time, if you've got a tongue in your head, use it. I can't do anything for you now. I got to commit you.”
He paused between his sentences, as if to let Lemuel speak, but the boy said nothing. The captain pulled his book impatiently toward him, and took up his pen.
“What's your name?”