"Poor thing!" said Mrs. Campbell. "I dare say it was a dreadful shock to her. Yes, dear, we'll attend to her after a while. We'll have her with us right along, you know, whereas these unhappy boys may--may be--may soon meet a cruel death on the scaffold." Mrs. Campbell evaded the phrase "may be hanged" rather skilfully. To her trained oratorical sense it had seemed to lack dignity. "So young!" said Mrs. Day. "And both so full of promise, to be cut off!" said Mrs. Parsons. "Why, they can't hang them both, I should think," said Miss Sissons. "I thought only one killed Mr. Montgomery." "My dear Louise," said Mrs. Campbell, "they can do anything they want, and they will. Shall I ever forget those ruffians who wanted to lynch the first one? They'll be on the jury!" The clump returned to their discussion of the flowers, and Miss Sissons presently mentioned she had some errands to do, and departed. "Would that that girl had more soul!" said Mrs. Parsons. "She has plenty of soul," replied Mrs. Campbell, "but she's under the influence of a man. Well, as I was saying, roses and lilies are too big." "Oh, _why_?" said Mrs. Day. "They would _please_ him so." "He couldn't carry them, Mrs. Day. I've thought it all out. He'll be walked to the jail between strong men. We must have some small bokay to pin on his coat, for his hands will be shackled." "You don't say!" cried Mrs. Slocum. "How awful! I must get to that train. I've never seen a man in shackles in my life." So violets were selected; Mrs. Campbell brought some in the afternoon from her own borders, and Mrs. Parsons furnished a large pin. She claimed also the right to affix the decoration upon the prisoner's breast because she had suggested the idea of flowers; but the other ladies protested, and the president seemed to think that they all should draw lots. It fell to Mrs. Day. "Now I declare!" twittered the little matron. "I do believe I'll never dare." "You must say something to him," said Amanda; "something fitting and choice." "Oh dear no, Mrs. Campbell. Why, I never--my gracious! Why, if I'd known I was expected--Really, I couldn't think--I'll let _you_ do it!" "We can't hash up the ceremony that way, Mrs. Day," said Amanda, severely. And as they all fell arguing, the whistle blew. "There!" said Mrs. Slocum. "Now you've made me late, and I'll miss the shackles and everything." She flew down-stairs, and immediately the town of Siskiyou saw twelve members of the Ladies' Reform and Literary Lyceum follow her in a hasty phalanx across the square to the station. The train approached slowly up the grade, and by the time the wide smoke-stack of the locomotive was puffing its wood smoke in clouds along the platform, Amanda had marshalled her company there. "Where's the gals all goin', Bill?" inquired a large citizen in boots of the ticket-agent. "Nowheres, I guess, Abe," the agent replied. "Leastways, they 'ain't bought any tickets off me."