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"I'll shore tell him," trembled Abner, trying to keep back his tears.

They gripped hands again and Abner went back down the trap door.

Beatrice Belle and Mr. Pratt had driven away, so the hill youth walked rather weakly around to the Jones residence. His nerves twitched and his chewed thumb throbbed. He entered the mansion through a wide piazza and knocked at a solemn oaken door. After waiting some minutes he saw a pearl button and pressed it. Presently he heard a woman's skirt rustle and Adelaide opened the door. The girl went pale at his bandaged head.

"Abner!" she cried, putting an arm around him and lifting a hand to his face, "I just heard about your terrible experience—come in, it's cold out here—you look as if you were shivering to death."

Abner kissed the uplifted lips as mechanically as a brother.

"Where's your daddy?"

"Down at the courthouse at the trial, I suppose."

"I must see him right away—you know Jim's in jail?"

Adelaide clenched her hands. "Oh, isn't it awful! Poor Beatrice! Poor Mrs. Sandage! It's all that Perry Northcutt's work!"

"Adelaide, your daddy must get up that money an' git Jim out. Why, it's awful up there in jail. It—it's just—I kain't tell you, it's so bad!" Abner's face and tone carried his idea of horror more potently than his words.

"Poor Mr. Sandage—and he got in there for accommodating Papa—you know there was nothing wrong about that! Papa simply must get him out!"

"That's what I say—and he's so blue—he's afraid he'll lose his office and be pore again."

"Oh, well, Papa couldn't allow that after Jim's got into this trouble accommodating him."

This whole conversation was a rush of words, of condolements; in the midst of it, the two heard a side door open