That Paul would never be convicted, he said hundreds of times, and succeeded in infusing some of his hopefulness into the minds of the wretched parents, notwithstanding the evidence against their son, both circumstantial and direct, if that of Elithe could be called so. Every day Miss Hansford sent him some message and once she went to see him, taking with her some little apple pies, such as she used to make for him every Saturday when he was a boy. At the sight of them, and her pitiful eyes looking at him so sorrowfully, Paul broke down, remembering the many times when he had eaten pies like these at her round table in the kitchen and then ran off to play with Sherry, his dog,—and Jack who was waiting in the woods and was never invited to eat a little pie. Paul thought they would choke him with the memories they brought, but to please Miss Hansford he ate one, while she told him what he already knew,—that she and Elithe had been subpoenaed by the People, that she did not want to appear against him, and should say everything in his favor that she could say, and flout the District Attorney who was to conduct the case. Paul laughed and took a second little pie, while Miss Hansford went on to speak of Elithe, and of the miners’ testimonial, with their queerly written signatures, some mere marks, with the names written round them, but all suggestive of sympathy for Elithe and liking for Jack. “He must have met with a change, or else he was always better than I supposed, and had now and then a good streak in him,” she said. “He had a great many,” Paul rejoined, and then asked if Elithe had seen the paper in which she was said to have been engaged to Jack. He had read it with a feeling of indignation and torn the article in shreds, wondering if Elithe would see it and what effect it would have upon her. She had seen it. Your best friend is very apt to bring you an uncomplimentary notice of your book or an unkind criticism on yourself, and one of her best friends had shown her this, with the result of a two days headache and darker rings around her eyes. This Miss Hansford told Paul, who, though he knew the story was false, felt so relieved by Elithe’s reception of it that he took a third little pie and ate it without seeming to know that he was doing so. There was but one left, and this he put aside as if for future use, knowing it would please Miss Hansford. It was nearly time for her to go, and as she tied her bonnet-strings, she said, “Wouldn’t you like me to pray with you?” She had seen a Prayer Book on a table by his bed and knew there was a good deal in it concerning the Visitation of Prisoners, but Paul’s was an exceptional case, and she was glad when he answered readily, “I wish you would, for if ever a poor wretch needed prayer, I do.”