"Not any better?" asked Tom. "Wal, I'm sorry for her, anyhow. Little Rose liked her, and she was always good to Rose. It scares me to death to think what they're going to do to her."
"Why the law, of course," replied Tom, shocked at his friend's ignorance. "You know they're going to take her to prison as soon as she's well enough to be carried there."
"Yes, I know. They are wicked men, too wicked," exclaimed Paul; "why can't they leave her alone?"
"You mustn't say any thing agin the squire," returned Tom, with his New England respect for the law and its ministers. "I'm sorry for her, but you see she kinder killed the baby, poor little critter--I guess she was crazy, though, I do, but marm won't hear on it."
"Why don't her husband come and help her," Paul suggested.
"She haint got any--oh, dear no, that's the worst on it, marm says."
"Oh, must she!" retorted Tom, exulting in his knowledge of this world's wickedness, gained from conversations he had overheard concerning the poor girl, yet perplexed, and quite unable to settle the matter to his own satisfaction. Still he had no intention of allowing Paul to suppose that his wisdom was more than half assumed.
"I'm glad Miss Rose ain't here, anyhow," he observed; "she'd break her heart about all this. I know she would."
Paul thought the girl's heart must be colder than the weather if it would not have that effect, and nodded his approbation of Tom's sentiment.
"Katharine is getting stronger; they talk of carrying her off in a day or two," continued Tom. "I heard our folks say so this morning."
Paul's great eyes dimmed with tears, then a quick passion turned them into fire.
"I could kill them," he said. "Yes, I could."
"'Twouldn't be no use," remarked Tom, sapiently; "'cause they'd only take you off too. I wish we could do something, though--I wish we could."
"Can't we?" questioned Paul, his face kindling with eagerness. "Oh, don't you think we could?"
"You're such a little bit of a chap," Tom replied, eyeing his companion, with a natural exultation at his own superiority in point of inches and weight.
"I'm little," Paul said, "but I am very brave--oh, you don't know! And Jube--Jube is strong like a lion, he could do any thing."
"I wonder if she couldn't run away," Tom burst out, quite overcome by his own inspiration. "I don't suppose she could run, you know, but she might get away."