“It takes some folks a mighty long time to learn their place in this here county.” “Well, I reckon he thinks the county kin afford to stand good for his fool play.” “He’ll learn his mistake—when Jesse gets out.” “Naw! Not the ghost of a show!” “He’d ought to be tarred and feathered and shot full o’ holes, and shipped back to where he come from to show his kind how we deal with plumb idjits west o’ the river.” “Well, he’ll dance a different stunt ’gainst this is over.” “You bet! Jesse’ll do his stunt next.” And then they heard the lazy doctor’s voice drawling, “Mebby so, but let’s wait and see, shall we?” Men’s minds were set unshiftingly on this coming trial. How Gordon would have to fight for a fair jury! “I think it is as you said,” said Mary, presently. “Mr. Langford feels he owes me—bread and clothes. He is anxious to pay off the debt so there will be nothing on his conscience. He owes me nothing, nothing, Louise, but he is a man and he thinks he can pay off any obligation he may feel.” “That is a harsh motive you ascribe to Mr. Langford,” said Louise, closing the window and coming to sit affectionately at Mary’s feet. “I don’t think he means it in that way at all. I think it is a fine and delicate and manly thing he has done. He did not intend for you to know—or any one. And don’t you think, Mary, that the idea of making up a purse should have come from some one else—just as he tried to make you believe? It was not done, so what was left for Mr. Langford to do? He had promised to see your father through. He was glad to do it. I think it was fine of him to do—what he did—the way he did it.” She had long thought the Boss dreamed dreams of Mary. She was more sure of it than ever to-night. And now if Gordon did, too—well, Mary was worth it. But she would be sorry for one of them some day. They were fine men—both of them. “But I shall pay him back—every cent,” replied Mary, firmly. “He owes me nothing, Louise, nothing, I tell you. I will not accept alms—of him. You see that I couldn’t, don’t you?” “I know he does not feel he owes you anything—in the way you are accusing him,” answered Louise, wisely. “He is doing this because you are you and he cannot bear to think of you suffering for things when he wants to help you more than he could dare to tell you now. Mary, don’t you see? I think, too, you must pay him back some day, but don’t worry about it. You would hurt him too much if you do not take plenty of time to get strong and well before repaying him—paltry dollars. There will be a way found, never fear. Meanwhile you can amuse yourself correcting my transcripts to keep you content till something turns up, and we will _make_ something turn up. Wait until this term is over and don’t fret. You won’t fret, will you?” “I will try not to, Louise,” said Mary, with a little weary gesture of acquiescence. CHAPTER XIV CHANNEL ICE