The Gold Brick Part 39

"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."

"And we could help," Paul said, his quick intelligence seizing at once upon the suggestion; "I am sure we could."

"Why, my marm would kill me!" exclaimed Tom. "Wouldn't I ketch it, oh, my!"

"You would beg and pray," said Paul; "she could not refuse--she would be willing."

"Wal, I guess we wouldn't ask her--'tain't disobeyin' when you hain't been told not to do a thing, and n.o.body can tell you what to do when they never heerd of it."

Tom got dreadfully bewildered in his labyrinth of negatives and Paul was unable to make much of his speech, but he was certain that it harmonized with his own ideas, even if he did fail to comprehend its entire signification.

"We could help her," he kept repeating; "I am sure we could."

"I do wonder what the squire would say?" said Tom, giggling at the very idea, although somewhat frightened at its audacity. "Wouldn't there be a rumpus--oh, my golly!"

He laughed outright, and Paul joined him from sympathy with that merry face; but he became thoughtful again in a moment.

"You are certain they would take her away from home and lock her up in that dark, lonesome place you call a prison?" he inquired.

"Sure as a gun. Par says so, and he knows the squires and lawyers about here all to pieces; but that aint the worst of it, not by a jug full."

The good-hearted little fellow's voice began to choke in his throat, and he burst into a laugh to keep from sobbing outright.

"What can be worse than that?" inquired Paul, startled by his friend's demonstration.

"They'll kill her!"

Paul turned deadly pale. The horror in Tom's words had struck him dumb.

"They'll hang her up on a gallows made of two high posts, with a cross-bar on the top," continued Tom, shuddering at his own words, "and a halter fastened to the cross-bar, which they will tie round her pretty white neck, that Rose used to hug so much."

"Don't, oh, don't!" whispered Paul, putting up his hands; "it makes me tremble all over."

"And so it does me," cried Tom, das.h.i.+ng the tears from his blue eyes.

"But you ought to know it just as it is, the burning brand and all."

"The burning brand--what is that?" asked Paul, faintly.

"The hot iron that they stamp M--that's for murderer, you know--on her hand!"

"Oh, me!" sighed Paul. "That pet.i.te white hand!"

"Sometimes the courts do that, and let 'em live in Simsbury all the rest of their lives. Sometimes they hang 'em right up. I don't know which they'll do to her."

"But they will do some of these awful things?" questioned Paul, breathing as if he was chilled through with the cold.

"Of course, they've got to do it. The law won't let 'em back out if they wanted to."

"Oh, dear, it makes me feel so wicked," cried Paul, brave thoughts kindling through the pallor of his face. "I want to cry and strike somebody at the same time."

"Strike! I want to maul some of 'em! Oh, if them courts was only little boys, and I the law, wouldn't they come down on their marrow bones and beg her pardon for thinking of such a thing. Besides, do you see, Paul, I don't believe she killed the baby. Anyway, them little creatures, with long flannel petticoats a hanging over their feet, are always doing things to torment grown folks, catching the rash, and measles, and chickenpox, to say nothing of a habit they get into of hiccuping right in a feller's face when he's told to tend 'em. Babies! They're the only thing I ever raly had agin marm--she always would be keeping one on hand, just for us to rock, and tend, and hush up. Par never would make a fuss about it, as a man aught ter with such goings on in the house."

"Perhaps he rather liked them!" suggested Paul.

"Liked 'em. Well, maybe he did, there's no saying; besides, they're well enough in their place, and that, according to my notion, is sound asleep in the cradle. Anyhow, what's the use of making sich a time about it when one of 'em stops crying for good and all, and what on airth could anybody think that ere young gal wanted with one of 'em a tagging after her?"

"I don't know," replied Paul, tenderly; "but from the way she looks at the empty cradle sometimes, it seems to me as if she wanted it there very much."

"Of course she does. It's a way of the wimmen folks have. I don't know about marm, for our cradle never is empty; but some wimmen make such fools of themselves, it's enough to set a feller agin the whole pack and boodle on 'em."

"You don't mean all the beautiful ladies," said Paul, thinking sadly of his own sweet mother.

"There's marm--she's a purty good kind of a woman after all, and Miss Mason, harnsome as a pictur. Then, little Rose--oh, my! don't you wish you could see her, with her white ap.r.o.ns ruffled all around, and her long curls, just like a wax doll. But then the generality of 'em--well, I don't want to say nothin'."

"That was a very nice little lady that gave me one apple with the brown coat."

"She? yes, she'll do; but we're going off the handle, you and I. What's the good of talking about the best on 'em if Katharine Allen has got to be hung! As I was a saying--when you would go on about wimmen folks in gineral, as if I cared any thing about them--as I was a saying, she never hurt that baby no more than I did. It went off and buried itself up in the snow--stealing Katy's shawl to wrap itself up in, then took cold and went into a conniption fit just out of spite. Them little sojers are up to all sorts of tricks; don't I know 'em!"

"I am sure it died of its own accord," said Paul.

"Of course; anybody but a squire would a found that out long ago."

"And she would be much glad to have the little baby back again."

"Wall, I don't know about that," said Tom, shaking his head doubtfully; "Katharine Allen's got some sense, I reckon; squalling must come unnatral in that ar house--now I leave it to you."

"But they will hang her dead."

"No doubt about it."

"Or burn her poor pet.i.te hand."

"Both on 'em, for all what I know, without you and I stand up to the rack like men, and tell the laws, and squires, and constables to go to old scratch."

"What is old scratch?"

"Well, I don't just know; but he's a feller that's always about times like this."

"But hadn't we better let the laws, and the squires, and all the rest alone, and try very much to help her?" suggested Paul.

"In course we had; I only threw them in sort of promiscuous. Now I'll tell you what my idee is: Katharine is getting stronger every day, you know."

"Yes," said Paul; "she sat up in a chair this morning, and eat very little _dejeuner_--breakfast, I mean--and the man--that great big man that sits on the hearth always--said she was getting much strong, and the window is too near the ground--not safe."

"Did he say that?" inquired Tom, breathlessly.

"Yes; the man said that. Then madame--that is the old mother--she look frightened very much, and said, no take the poor sick child away too soon. Then the man said up-stairs was best--high from ground, very sure."

"That's bad," muttered Tom. "Ladders are scarce and heavy to lift."