“Do you believe that I killed Isaac Naylor?” Will did not answer, but stood looking fixedly on the ground. “Never mind; I don’t ask you to answer me, Will. I’ll tell you, however, that I did not do it. I’ll stay and face the music.” Then Tom turned and called his father and John. “Father—John—did you hear what Will said?” “No.” “He said that there’s a warrant out against me for this thing.” “A warrant out against thee?” “Yes.” “But thee hasn’t seen Isaac Naylor since thee came home, Thomas,” said his father. “Yes, I did, father.” “Where?” “At the very place where he was murdered.” Then he told all that had passed between him and Isaac Naylor, and of how near he had come to doing that of which he was accused. His father listened without a word, looking deeply and fixedly into Tom’s eyes the while. John was looking intently at him, too. Will was standing, turned half away. When Tom had ended, his father spoke to him in a low voice: “Thomas.” “Well?” “Is—is that all? Has thee told us all?” “Yes, father.” “Why didn’t thee speak of it before?” “I couldn’t bear to do it. I was afraid to tell how I had treated him—an overseer in the meeting.” Tom’s heart crumbled within him at the silence that followed his words. “Father,” he said, “so help me God, my hands are clean of this thing. Does thee suppose I’d have come home if I’d done it?” “Wait a minute, Thomas; I’m thinking,” said his father. He stood picking at his finger-tips, and looking earnestly at them. At last he raised his head. “I don’t believe that thee did do it, Thomas. I can’t believe it.” “Neither can I!” burst out John. “My brother couldn’t do a thing like that. My mother’s son couldn’t kill a man. I don’t believe it, and I can’t believe it!” The tears sprang into Tom’s eyes at these words. He looked at Will, but Will’s head was still turned away. “Here comes the constable,” said he, at last, in a low voice. A horse and gig had come up from behind Stony-Brook Hill. When it reached the level road between them and the crest of the rise the nag broke into a trot. “Yes, that’s Johnson’s team,” said John, and then he turned his head away. They all stood silently until at last the gig came up to where they were. The constable and his deputy were both in it. The constable drew up the horse, and threw the reins to the deputy. Then he stepped out and came over to where the others were standing, drawing a paper out of his breast-pocket as he did so. He had not said a word up to this time. “I know what you’re coming for,” said Tom; “I’m ready to go with you, Johnson.” “The Lord knows—I’d rather lose a hundred dollars, than have to do this,” said the constable. “I believe you would,” said Tom. “Can thee wait a little while, Eben?” said Tom’s father; “I’d like to drive over to Squire Morrow’s along with you. I’ll slip up to the house and gear Nelly to the wagon; it won’t take me a minute.”